j 


BX  7233  .G7  T5 

Gordon,  George  Angier,  185 

1929. 
Through  man  to  God 


THEOUaH  MAN  TO  GOD 


THROUGH   MAN  TO   GOD 


BY  / 

GEORGE  A.  GORDON 

MINISTER  OF   THE  OLD  SOUTH   CHURCH,    BOSTON 


BOSTON    AND    NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON    MIFFLIN   COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT    1906    BY   GEORGE   A.   GORDON 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 

Published  October  iqob 


TO 
THE  CONGREGATIONAL  CHURCH  IN 
TEMPLE  MAINE  WHERE  I  BEGAN  MY 
MINISTRY;  TO  THE  SECOND  CONGRE- 
GATIONAL CHURCH  IN  GREENWICH 
CONNECTICUT  WHERE  MY  MINIS- 
TRY WAS  CONTINUED ;  AND  TO  THE 
OLD  SOUTH  CHURCH  IN  BOSTON 
WHERE  FOR  NEARLY  THREE  AND 
TWENTY  YEARS  I  HAVE  SERVED 
SUPPORTED  BY  THE  DEVOTION  OF 
A  GREAT  PARISH  I  DEDICATE  THESE 
SERMONS   IN    HONOR   AND   LOVE 


PREFACE 

Toward  the  close  of  his  life  Tennyson  said  to 
a  friend,  "  My  chief  desire  is  to  have  a  new 
vision  of  God."  In  this  desire  the  great  poet 
is  the  prophet  of  all  serious  men.  What  is 
final  ?  What  is  sovereign  ?  Who  is  God  ?  Up 
into  these  questions  all  other  human  questions 
are  at  length  gathered.  Man's  destiny  is  in  the 
keeping  of  man's  Maker,  whether  that  Maker 
be  mud  or  mind,  cosmic  force  or  Eternal  Spirit. 

The  ancient  question  ran,  "  When  shall  I 
come  and  appear  before  God  ? "  To-day  we 
modify  that  question  and  ask,  "  How  shall  we 
appear  before  God  ? "  Is  the  character  of  the 
Eternal  accessible  to  man?  And  if  so,  how? 
Along  what  path  may  we  approach  that  char- 
acter? Where  shall  we  look  for  the  greater 
witness  ? 

There  are,  finally,  but  two  ways  of  approach 
to  the  character  of  the  Infinite,  —  cosmic  nature 
and  man.  It  is  true  that  these  exist  together  in 
a  kind  of  sacramental  union.  It  may  seem  that 
in  any  attempt  to  regard  them  as  oppositea, 
there  is  a  violation  of  the  great  law,  what  God 
hath  joined  together,  let  not  man  put  asunder. 


Vlll  PREFACE 

Still,  they  stand  to  each  other  as  higher  and 
lower,  and  they  speak  a  different  word  concern- 
ing the  Mystery  that  is  within  them  and  behind 
them. 

Some  years  ago  John  Fiske  published  an  in- 
teresting book  under  the  title  "  Through  Nature 
to  God."  Many  men  whom  I  honor  found  light 
in  that  book.  When  I  read  it,  I  felt  that  my 
convictions  were  fundamentally  opposed,  not  so 
much  to  the  isolated  ideas  of  the  book,  as  to 
the  plan  expressed  in  its  title.  The  title  of  my 
book  originated  in  this  fundamental  opposition 
to  Mr.  Fiske's  plan.  "  Through  Man  to  God " 
is  the  expression  that  sums  up  my  conception 
of  the  heart  and  soul  of  Christianity.  Chris- 
tianity is  the  interpretation  of  the  Eternal,  not 
through  nature,  but  through  human  nature,  not 
through  the  lower  expressions  of  the  creative 
power,  but  through  man,  the  highest  expression. 
The  creation  at  its  best  gives  us  the  Creator  at 
his  best ;  the  highest  man  is  the  supreme  revela- 
tion of  God. 

The  sermons  in  this  volume  have  their  unity 
here.  They  are  variations  upon  this  one  per- 
sistent theme.  The  incarnation  of  God  in  Jesus 
the  perfect  man,  in  all  men  as  moral  beings, 
in  all  good  men  as  the  life  of  their  life,  is  the 
fimdamental  idea  in  my  philosophy  of  existence. 
In  this  volume  that  idea  is  presented  in  the  free- 


PREFACE  IX 

dom  of  discourse  and  in  relation  to  the  human 
needs  which  it  is  fitted  to  meet. 

The  justification  for  the  publication  of  a  vol- 
ume of  sermons  is  in  the  ideas  that  they  contain, 
the  vitality  with  which  these  ideas  are  pervaded, 
and  the  literary  conscience  with  which  they  are 
expressed.  If  in  this  sentence  I  have  not  vindi- 
cated the  appearance  of  the  present  volume,  I 
have  at  least  indicated  my  ideal,  and  I  have  fur- 
ther written  the  law  in  accordance  with  which 
my  book  may  be  condemned. 

George  A.  Gordon. 

Old  South  Parsonage,  Boston,  Mass. 
May  6,  1906. 


CONTENTS 


I.  God  and  Hope 

II.  The  Humanity  of  God 

III.  Man  the' Apostle  of  God 

IV.  Personality  and  the  Truth     . 
V.  Nature  and  Humanity  . 

VI.  Life  and  Love  and  Time  . 

VII.  The  Servant  of  Abraham     . 

VIII.  The  Untroubled  Heart 

IX.  Belief  and  Fear 

X.  The  Inheritance  of  Faith 

XI.  The  Grace  of  Kindness 

XII.  The  Great  Question  . 

XIII.  The  Romance  and  the  Reality 

XIV.  Wise  Men  and  Their  Ideals    . 
XV.  The  Final  Theodicy 

XVI.  The  Upper  Room 

XVII.  God  the  Comforter 

XVIII.  Toward  Evening 
XIX.  Some  Continuities  of  Individual 

istence 

XX.  God  All  in  All      .        .        .        . 


Ex- 


PASB 

1 

23 
42 
64 
88 
108 
135 
152 
167 
184 
199 
215 
230 
248 
271 
286 
305 
329 

347 
372 


THROUGH   MAN   TO   GOD 


GOD  AND  HOPE 

"  Having  no  hope  and  without  God  in  the  world." 

Ephesians  ii,  12. 

The  apostle  finds  among  the  facts  of  existence 
what  he  calls  the  hopeless  Hfe.  He  traces  this 
hopelessness  to  what  he  considers  its  source  and 
cause.  Hopeless  men  are  Godless  men.  And 
this  atheism  is  not  the  mere  intellectual  denial 
of  the  Divine  existence ;  it  is  also,  and  far  more, 
the  moral,  the  practical  denial.  The  apostle  is 
thinking  of  a  mind  with  no  clear  and  serious 
belief  in  the  Eternal  goodness,  of  a  will  with  no 
high  purpose  of  service,  of  a  heart  outside  the 
joyous  visitations  and  sympathies  that  are  the 
life  of  faith.  His  explanation  of  this  haggard 
existence  is  that  it  is  without  the  conscious 
presence  of  the  living  God,  and  therefore  with- 
out hope.  For  him,  God  and  hope  are  bound 
together  as  cause  and  effect.  He  would  as  soon 
expect  daylight  without  the  sun  as  to  find  hope 
in  man  without  God. 

Great  persistent  emotions  have  their  sustain- 


2  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

ing  origin  in  great  persistent  ideas.  Men  seek 
because  they  believe  that  they  shall  find,  they 
knock  because  they  believe  that  it  shall  be 
opened  unto  them.  Certain  things  belong  to- 
gether in  the  way  of  cause  and  effect,  and  where 
this  connection  is  not  obvious,  we  may  still  see 
that  one  without  the  other  is  incomplete.  We 
can  think  of  a  pedestal  without  a  statue  and  of 
a  statue  without  a  pedestal ;  but  neither  is  com- 
plete without  the  other.  The  statue  is  useless 
without  the  pedestal ;  the  pedestal  is  vain  with- 
out the  statue.  The  complete  work  of  art  de- 
mands the  presence  of  both.  It  is  so  with  hope 
and  God.  Hope  may  exist  without  belief  in 
God,  or  the  sense  of  his  reality,  but  it  is  a  vain 
hope.  Belief  in  God  may  exist  without  hope, 
but  this  is  abnormal.  Where  there  is  the  con- 
sciousness of  God,  there  is  the  ground  of  hope, 
valid,  reasonable  hope.  Where  there  is  no  con- 
sciousness of  God,  there  is  no  ground  of  hope. 
When  we  are  clear,  we  conclude  that  life  with 
God  is  life  with  hope,  that  life  without  God  is 
life  without  hope. 

1.  Without  God  there  is  no  hope  of  under- 
standing nature.  It  is  indeed  true  that  through 
the  courses  of  the  cosmos  there  is  no  revelation 
of  the  moral  being  of  the  Infinite.  Moral  life 
alone  can  reveal  moral  life ;  soul  alone  can  speak 
for  soul.   But  this  is  not  the  whole  case.    Con- 


GOD  AND  HOPE  8 

science  and  love  are  not  the  whole  of  God.  God 
is  power,  thought,  beauty,  the  terrestrial  and 
cosmic  disjjosition  that  on  the  whole  favors  life 
in  this  world. 

If  there  is  anything  clear  and  certain,  it  is  the 
existence  of  power  out  and  beyond  ourselves. 
In  every  breath,  in  every  breeze,  in  every  gale, 
in  all  the  milder  and  in  aU  the  fiercer  attacks 
made  upon  our  life,  we  are  conscious  of  the  ex- 
istence of  power  other  than  our  own.  Any  other 
confession  is  confusion.  Any  other  conclusion  is 
a  contradiction  of  the  original  and  final  decision 
of  the  sound  mind.  Native  force  of  mind  is  a 
great  thing,  and  here  the  farmer  is  not  infre- 
quently a  better  authority  than  the  naturalist. 
The  sense  of  what  exists  is  the  beginning  of 
wisdom ;  it  is  like  the  lamp  in  the  dark  room. 

Again,  the  cosmos  looks  as  if  it  were  the 
expression  of  thought.  What  a  Greek  thinker 
long  ago  discovered  in  nature  would  seem  to  be 
there.  There  seems  to  be  among  the  individual 
things  that  we  know  an  aspiration  after  the 
complete  life.  In  the  flower,  in  the  tree,  in  the 
bird,  in  the  beast  of  the  field  and  the  fish  of 
the  sea,  there  seems  to  be  the  persistent  struggle 
upward  toward  completeness.  All  individuals, 
all  groups  of  individuals,  seem  to  be  pursuing 
ends,  and  these  ends  seem  to  be  embedded  in 
the  order  and  structure  of  their  being.    There 


4  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

may  be  countless  failures ;  there  may  be  few 
successes.  Still,  this  struggle  toward  the  attain- 
ment of  ideal  ends  is  impressive.  Evolution 
when  it  is  sane  is  little  more  than  a  new  and 
mightier  edition  of  Aristotle's  doctrine  of  ends. 
All  that  we  see,  all  that  we  know,  is  in  move- 
ment toward  the  complete  existence ;  and  cosmic 
ends  without  cosmic  intelligence  is  cosmic  non- 
sense. 

There  is  beauty  in  the  world.  What  shall  we 
make  of  it?  It  has  been  said  in  an  interesting 
book  that  beauty  is  pleasure  objectified.  Is  that 
enough  ?  Is  that  the  full  and  adequate  account 
of  a  beautiful  face  or  a  glorious  sunset  ?  Does 
the  statement  that  beauty  is  altogether  a  thing 
of  the  pleased  and  generous  mind,  that  it  is  the 
shadow  upon  the  world  cast  by  the  rapt  soul, 
account  for  Milton's  sorrow  over  the  loss  of  his 
sight  ? 

"  Seasons  return,  but  not  to  me  returns 
Day,  or  the  sweet  approach  of  even  or  morn, 
Or  sight  of  vernal  bloom,  or  summer's  rose, 
Or  flocks,  or  herds,  or  human  face  divine; 
But  clouds  instead  and  ever-during  dark 
Surrounds  me,  from  the  cheerful  ways  of  men 
Cut  off,  and  for  the  book  of  knowledge  fair 
Presented  with  a  universal  blank 
Of  nature's  works  to  me  expunged  and  rased, 
And  wisdom  at  one  entrance  quite  shut  out." 

The  beauty  is  in  the  perceiving  mind  and  in  the 


GOB  AND  HOPE  5 

feeling  heart.  The  inspiration  of  it  is  out  and 
beyond,  in  the  light  of  setting  suns.  The  cosmos 
bears  the  character  of  an  inspirer  of  beauty ;  and 
when  our  receptivities  are  dull,  or  closed,  or 
taken  away,  the  vision  and  the  passion  of  beauty 
revisit  us  no  more. 

There  is  the  cosmic  disposition  favorable  to 
life  on  the  earth.  One  can  imagine  a  storm  in 
which  no  ship  could  live,  a  hurricane  which  no 
human  habitation  could  survive,  a  degree  of 
heat  or  of  cold  destructive  of  every  living  thing, 
a  blast  from  some  cave  of  the  Furies  that  would 
spread  death  everywhere.  There  is  restraint  upon 
cosmic  hostility  to  life ;  otherwise  life  would 
cease.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  cosmic  favor, 
sympathy,  benignity.  What  shall  we  do  with 
this  chastened  cosmic  hostility  and  this  high 
sympathy  ?  Natural  selection  is  the  phrase  that 
leaps  for  utterance.  Nature  has  bred  life  from 
the  life  best  adapted  to  her  strange  environ- 
ments till  she  has  arrived  at  races  largely  har- 
monious with  her  stern  caprices.  Her  wily  off- 
spring know  how  to  dodge  her  blows  and  feed 
upon  her  bounties.  It  is  strange  that  a  metaphor 
should  mislead  the  world.  Man  the  breeder  and 
improver  of  life  we  know  as  a  person  of  superior 
mind  and  skill,  but  nature  the  breeder  and  im- 
prover of  life  we  know  as  without  mind,  working 
in  the  dark,  without  aim,  by  sheer  luck  arriving 


6  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

at  the  stupendous  result  of  life  adapted  more 
and  more  to  its  environment.  Of  all  the  poor 
sophisms  that  have  ever  passed  for  reason,  this 
is  one  of  the  meanest ;  of  all  the  instances  where 
scientific  bread  was  demanded  and  a  common 
vulgar  stone  given,  this  is  the  supreme  example. 
If  in  all  our  adjustments  and  improvements  we 
do  nothing  more  than  act  in  sympathy  with  the 
cosmic  process,  then  why  is  our  struggle  full  of 
mind  and  that  process  mindless  ?  Nothing  can 
disturb  the  sound  mind  in  its  sense  of  the  power, 
the  thought,  the  beauty,  and  the  order  of  favor 
to  life  in  the  cosmos.  To  say  that  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  of  the  individual  man  are  the  sole 
realities,  is  the  same  as  saying  that  the  prisoner 
of  Chillon  in  his  dungeon  is  as  high  in  privilege 
as  Byron  and  Shelley  on  the  wondrous  lake  or 
among  the  great  mountains.  The  cosmos  is  not 
simply  vision ;  it  is  at  least  the  vision  of  power, 
thought,  beauty,  and  favor.  If  we  cannot  say 
that  the  power  is  cosmic  will,  that  the  thought 
is  cosmic  intellect,  that  the  beauty  is  cosmic 
soul,  that  the  order  favorable  to  life  is  cosmic 
sympathy,  if  we  cannot  describe  as  Spirit  the 
wondrous  whole  that  so  answers  to  our  spirit, 
we  must  be  dumb.  We  have  then  a  cosmos 
that  is  a  sphinx,  —  nameless,  inscrutable,  eternal 
mystery. 

2.  Without  God  there  is  no  hope  of  under- 


GOD  AND  HOPE  7 

standing  the  goodness  in  man,  and  in  man's 
history.  Man  is  not  his  own  maker.  It  is  true 
that  character  is  an  achievement.  Still,  certain 
powers  and  aptitudes  for  this  achievement  are 
born  with  the  soul.  The  capacity  for  discerning 
truth  from  falsehood,  right  from  wrong,  human- 
ity from  inhumanity,  comes  with  us  into  the 
world.  The  capacity  for  love  in  all  its  high 
forms  is  a  native  capacity.  There  is  the  lover's 
love,  the  parent's  love,  the  child's  love,  the 
patriot's  love,  the  philanthropist's  love,  the  saint's 
love.  The  capacity  that  in  certain  great  instances 
bursts  into  this  world  of  bloom  and  fruitfulness 
is  native  to  man.  So,  too,  the  capacity  to  serve. 
The  heavenly  vision  is  first  discriminated  from 
the  vision  of  hell,  then  follows  the  love  of  the 
eternal  solemnity,  then  comes  the  life  of  ardent 
and  happy  service.  Man  is  born  with  a  profusion 
of  exalted  aptitudes.  He  comes  to  the  moral  task 
of  life  as  the  sun  comes  to  its  daily  duty.  It 
comes  with  a  fiery  heart,  with  a  radiant  nature, 
with  a  luminous  and  illuminating  being.  It  has 
but  to  rise  and  shine,  to  lift  itself  above  the  hori- 
zon and  then  to  let  itself  go,  to  appear  and  to  sow 
the  earth  with  its  God-begotten  beams.  This 
is  the  life  of  the  normal  man.  His  nature  is 
stored  with  aptitudes  for  his  vocation.  He  has 
a  soul  with  eyes,  a  heart  with  a  thousand  splen- 
dors in  it,  a  will  capable  of  wondrous  service  and 


8  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

endless  loyalty.  Unbind  him,  set  him  free,  let 
his  capacities  out,  let  his  powers  go,  and  his 
moral  achievement  is  an  inevitable  achievement. 
When  this  does  not  take  place,  ignorance  and 
perversity  contradict  and  baffle  the  clear  inten- 
tion of  our  being. 

All  these  things  we  have  inherited.  True, 
but  that  only  moves  the  mystery  out  of  the 
present  into  the  past.  A  man  does  not  explain 
the  production  of  his  wealth  by  the  remark  that 
it  came  to  him  by  inheritance.  Wealth  is  a 
human  creation.  It  implies  in  its  existence  some- 
where, labor  and  sorrow  and  gladness.  The 
thousand  high  capacities  of  the  soul  are  not 
explained  by  the  fact  of  descent.  These  capa- 
cities are  creations ;  they  are  an  accumulation 
of  creations  through  the  action  and  reaction  of 
human  life  in  the  order  of  the  world,  and  in 
this  action  and  reaction  of  our  human  life, 
under  the  order  of  the  world,  there  moves  the 
originating  spirit  of  God.  The  river  is  not  ex- 
plained by  its  course.  Its  volume  at  the  end 
is  not  accounted  for  by  the  remark  that  it  has 
come  a  thousand  miles.  It  is  not  explained  by 
the  number  and  the  size  of  its  tributaries,  nor 
by  the  country  which  it  drains,  nor  by  the  foun- 
tains from  which  it  first  issues.  The  elements, 
the  forces,  the  laws,  and  the  spirit  of  the  whole 
world    are  needed   to  account   for   that  great. 


GOD  AND  HOPE  9 

beautiful,  triumphant  river.  So  it  is  with  man. 
Nothing  can  account  for  him  but  the  spirit  of  the 
whole,  the  soul  of  the  universe,  the  best  at  the 
centre  of  the  Infinite,  the  heart  of  the  Eternal. 

There  is  the  goodness  of  the  individual  per- 
son. In  this  person  pursuing  some  great  ideal, 
many  of  these  exalted  aptitudes  are  in  process  of 
realization.  The  process  of  realization  is  serious, 
strenuous,  sometimes  tremendous.  Still,  it  is  a 
victorious  process.  In  it  the  great  souls  advance 
"  by  the  armor  of  righteousness  on  the  right  hand 
and  on  the  left,  by  glory  and  dishonor,  by  evil  re- 
port and  good  report ;  as  deceivers,  and  yet  true ; 
as  unknown,  and  yet  weU  known  ;  as  dying,  and 
behold,  we  live ;  as  chastened,  and  not  kiUed ; 
as  sorrowful,  yet  alway  rejoicing ;  as  poor,  yet 
making  many  rich ;  as  having  nothing,  and  yet 
possessing  all  things."  And  the  profoundest  note 
in  this  glorious  tumult  of  triumphant  manhood 
is  the  confession  of  help  out  of  the  unseen,  of  the 
grace  of  the  Infinite,  of  the  Strength  that  perfects 
itself  in  human  weakness.  The  history  of  a  great 
soul  is  an  absolute  enigma  in  a  Godless  luiiverse. 

There  is  the  family  life  of  man,  with  its  sancti- 
ties and  felicities.  Here  wiU  is  much,  but  nature 
is  more ;  and  at  times  nature  seems  the  mightier 
witness  of  God.  The  efficient  wiU  conforming  an 
outward  environment  to  its  own  great  purpose 
may  have  the  aspect  of  self-sufficiency.    From 


10  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

the  outside  and  for  those  who  do  not  search  its 
depths,  the  efficient  will  may  seem  the  negation 
of  God.  The  flight  of  the  bird  is  accounted  for 
by  its  own  strong  wings.  But  in  the  rush,  the 
surprise,  the  persistence,  the  sovereignty,  and  the 
sweetness  of  domestic  instincts  we  see  a  will  other 
than  our  own.  The  home  once  established,  chil- 
dren born,  here  to  be  cared  for  and  loved,  here 
to  be  defended  and  led  up  to  the  threshold  of 
manhood  and  womanhood,  the  human  heart  be- 
comes master.  The  economic  activity  and  worth 
of  man,  the  political  genius  and  service  of  man, 
the  religious  vision  and  passion  of  man,  come  out 
of  the  heart  of  our  human  homes.  The  goodness 
here  is  the  best  that  we  know;  it  is  our  own, 
and  again  it  is  not  our  own.  The  heart  of  a  great 
workman  in  any  vocation,  the  heart  of  a  patriot 
like  Lincoln,  of  a  father  like  Luther,  of  a  mother 
like  Monica,  is  more  than  an  achievement  made 
possible  by  family  life.  Without  the  grace  of  the 
Eternal,  it  is  an  absolute  mystery.  Without  God, 
there  is  no  hope  of  understanding  this  supreme 
blossom  and  excellence  of  our  humanity.  The 
best  education  in  faith  is  to  revere  the  hallowed 
family  of  the  world,  and  to  endeavor  to  perpetu- 
ate this  happiness.  The  true  human  home,  in 
its  possessions,  love,  service,  and  hope,  speaks  for 
itself.  Here  the  heart  of  honor  seems  to  utter 
like  an  aeolian  harp  the  Eternal  honor :  — 


GOD  AND  HOPE  11 

"  Speaks  not  of  self  that  mystic  tone, 
But  of  the  over-gods  alone. 
It  trembles  to  the  cosmic  breath 
And  as  it  heareth  so  it  saith." 

Here,  too,  the  high  souls  of  the  race  speak. 
The  final  refutation  of  the  universe  of  Buddha 
is  Buddha  himself.  That  great,  pure,  compas- 
sionate, victorious  soul  is  the  negation  of  the  un- 
thinking, unfeeling,  and  impotent  Infinite.  Such 
a  soul  lights  the  universe  to  its  heart,  and  shows 
there  power  and  grace  equal  to  the  production  of 
a  spirit  thus  firm  and  high.  This  is  the  great 
service  of  the  high  souls  of  our  race.  They  are 
not  self-made.  They  are  not  originations  in  the 
teeth  of  fate,  in  protest  against  the  character  of 
the  universe.  They  are  one  and  all  the  work  of 
the  Eternal  Spirit,  one  and  all  apostles  of  the 
Infinite  mystery,  one  and  aU  witnesses  of  the 
heart  of  honor  and  fire  at  the  core  of  being,  one 
and  all  revelations  of  the  moral  life  of  God. 
Jesus  Christ  is  the  issue  of  the  sympathetic  soul 
of  the  universe.  He  drew  his  being  from  the 
heart  of  the  Eternal  Being.  He  is  the  apostle 
and  high  priest  of  our  confession.  The  universe 
consented  to  his  existence,  it  was  able  to  give 
him  his  existence,  it  must  be  as  good  as  its  best 
issue. 

3.  Without  God,  there  is  no  hope  of  deliver- 
ance from  man's  great  enemies.    It   sometimes 


12  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

seems  to  be  true  that  man  is  a  self-deliverer. 
This  power  of  self-deliverance  is  the  best  gift 
that  the  universe  has  bestowed  upon  him.  He 
seems  to  be  a  self-deliverer  from  ignorance,  eco- 
nomic waste  and  wrong,  physical  dishonor  and 
pain,  vice  and  crime,  and  from  all  uncleanness 
and  outrage.  It  sometimes  appears  as  if  the 
prospect  of  self-deliverance  for  man  were  bright 
and  alluring. 

But  how  is  this  deliverance  to  be  wrought  ? 
By  insight  into  the  laws  governing  our  being 
and  by  obedience  to  them.  By  the  vision  of  the 
path  of  life  and  by  walking  therein.  Self-deliv- 
erance is  thus  through  the  power  of  something 
other  and  greater  than  man.  It  is  through  the 
vision  of  law  and  obedience  to  law  ;  it  is  through 
the  grace  that  law  breathes  into  the  beholding 
and  serving  soul. 

This  reverses  our  notion  of  self-deliverance. 
After  all,  we  are  not  our  own  saviours.  We 
cross  the  deep  with  our  ships.  The  sea  becomes 
the  great  field  for  the  carrying  power  of  a  pro- 
ductive race.  We  triumph  on  the  sea,  as  else- 
where, by  our  obedience.  Our  triumph  comes 
throvigh  our  knowledge  of  nature's  power,  our 
invocation  of  nature's  help,  our  willingness  to 
allow  nature  to  fight  for  us.  We  achieve  by 
laying  hold  of  power  other  than  our  own  and 
infinitely  greater. 


GOD  AND  HOPE  13 

This  is  the  case  when  we  come  to  the  sphere 
of  character.  There  is  man's  sin.  No  soul  has 
ever  torn  itself  from  the  meshes  of  error  and 
wrong  without  the  sense  of  help  from  God.  No 
such  soul  would  dare  face  the  task  of  bringing  in 
a  new  moral  habit  to  replace  the  old  habit  of  sin 
and  shame  without  the  promise  and  prospect  of 
Divine  help.  Moral  reconstitution  is  the  task  of 
midtitudes.  It  is  a  task  that  has  two  aspects.  It 
is  an  achievement  and  it  is  a  rescue.  The  power 
of  rescue  is  out  of  the  Infinite.  Indeed,  those 
who  stand  in  this  tremendous  process  seem  hardly 
to  know  what  we  mean  by  vagueness  and  uncer- 
tainty about  God.  He  is  the  new  thought  in  the 
intellect,  the  new  love  in  the  heart,  the  new  tide 
of  strength  in  the  wiU,  the  new  reservoir  of  power 
behind  all  the  lines  of  supply  coming  into  their 
lives.  He  is  the  breath  of  their  being,  the  soul 
of  their  soul.  In  the  awakened,  forgiven,  eman- 
cipated, victorious  soul,  God  is  an  ever-present 
reality.  In  this  direction  and  current  of  personal 
life  God  lives,  in  this  tidal  movement  upon  noble 
ends  God  moves.  Those  mighty  emancipations 
from  sin,  such  as  we  find  in  Paul,  Augustine, 
Luther,  and  a  multitude  of  others  less  impressive, 
take  from  the  subjects  of  them  all  doubt  about 
God.  Those  steady  ongoings  of  the  soul  in  honor 
and  service  are  the  continuous  witness  of  God's 
presence.  How  can  he  doubt  God's  presence 
whose  cry  is  :  — 


14  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

"  He  brought  me  up  also  out  of  an  horrible  pit,  out  of  the 

miry  clay; 
And  he  set  my  feet  upon  a  rock,  and  established  my 

goings. 
And  he  hath  put  a  new  song  in  my  mouth,  even  praise 

unto  our  God." 

When  good  men  look  upon  the  task  of  making 
I  the  world  good,  it  becomes  hopeless  without  God. 
If  there  is  no  sympathy  at  the  heart  of  things  with 
'  the  teacher,  the  prophet,  the  reformer ;  if  there 
I  is  no  eternal  gracious  presence  mediating  itself 
through  good  men  in  the  lofty  service  of  their 
kind,  what  can  we  do  ?  Look  out  upon  the  lust 
and  greed  and  cruelty  of  the  world  and  behold 
our  task.  Who  is  sufficient  for  this  task  ?  Un- 
less we  can  say  our  sufficiency  is  of  God,  we  must 
abandon  all  high  work  in  despair.  I  stood  once 
in  the  citadel  that  overlooks  the  city  of  Cairo. 
It  was  evening.  There  lay  the  city  on  the  plain, 
teeming  with  men  and  women,  ignorant,  unclean, 
sinning,  and  suffering,  holding  within  its  compass 
an  epitome  of  the  tragedy  of  the  world.  There  it 
spread  till  it  crumbled  in  the  surrounding  desert, 
lost  in  the  desert's  loneliness  and  gloom.  And 
towering  there  in  the  afterglow  of  sunset  on  the 
edge  of  the  boundless  waste  of  sand  stood  the 
Pyramids,  ancient,  weird,  solemn,  preternatural 
witnesses  of  immemorial  wretchedness,  desolation, 
and  despair.    What  man,  what  company  of  men, 


GOB   AND  HOPE  15 

what  church,  what  order  of  churches,  can  match 
this  ancient  and  nameless  sorrow  ?  I  came  from 
this  vision  to  the  Christian  mission  in  the  great 
city.    There  I  found  the  groimd  of  hope  :  — 

"  God  is  our  refuge  and  strength, 

A  very  present  help  in  trouble. 

Therefore  will  we  not  fear,  though  the  earth  do  change, 

And  though  the   mountains  be  moved  in  the  heart  of 

the  seas  ; 
Though  the  waters  thereof  roar  and  be  troubled, 
Though  the  mountains  shake  with  the  swelling  thereof. 
God  is  in  the  midst  of  her;  she  shall  not  be  moved  : 
God  shall  help  her,  and  that  right  early." 

There  is,  finally,  man's  greatest  enemy,  death. 
Death  is  the  enemy  of  man  because  man  is  a  lover. 
He  has  an  instinctive  love  of  life ;  when  true  to 
himself,  he  rises  into  the  love  of  the  dutiful  life ; 
when  he  is  reasonably  fortunate,  his  existence  is 
at  its  heart  a  network  of  noble  attachments. 
The  vital  instinct  hates  death  ;  the  conscientious 
servant  stands  opposed  to  death ;  the  lover  of 
his  kind,  of  his  kindred,  of  his  home,  is  at  war 
with  death.  Wherever  you  find  a  nature  burn- 
ing with  vitality,  a  conscience  supreme  over  the 
courses  of  thought  and  conduct,  a  heart  with 
a  thousand  dear  interests  and  a  few  immortal 
loves,  there  you  find  the  spirit  that  refuses  the 
comfort  of  extinction.  Wherever  human  life  is 
great,  it  must  wish  to  go  on ;  wherever  it  has 
the  capacity  for  worth,  it  should  go  on ;  wher- 


16  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

ever  it  is  a  high  and  beautiful  character,  if  the 
Eternal  cares  for  such  things,  it  must  go  on. 

For  what  does  the  universe  care  ?  We  may 
answer,  only  for  the  endless  transformations  of 
its  own  energy.  In  that  case  the  universe  is 
beneath  contempt.  Honor  and  worship  of  it,  to 
a  clear  mind,  are  impossible.  On  that  basis  re- 
ligion could  not  have  begun  ;  on  that  basis  the 
great  religions  could  never  have  come  into  exist- 
ence. If  the  universe  cares  for  nothing  but  the 
endless  transformation  of  its  own  being,  it  is 
simply  brutal  and  contemptible. 

Let  us  assume  that  this  is  its  character.  How, 
then,  can  we  account  for  the  beauty  into  which 
this  contemptible  universe  bursts  in  the  great 
souls  of  the  race,  in  the  normal  human  homes  of 
our  kind,  in  the  heart  of  the  faithful  the  world 
over  ?  Here  is  a  contradiction  too  great  for  the 
sound  mind  to  accept.  Can  the  clean  come  out 
of  the  unclean,  the  high  soul  out  of  the  brutal, 
the  spirit  all  love,  all  service,  all  sympathy, 
whose  whole  being  is  a  holy  sacrificial  fire,  rise 
up  out  of  the  depths  of  an  immoral  or  unmoral 
universe  ?  If  we  must  choose  among  mysteries, 
we  must,  while  we  follow  reason,  set  this  one 
aside  as  incredible  and  impossible. 

High  capacities  such  as  we  find  in  men,  high 
character  and  service  such  as  we  find  in  good 
men,  would  seem  to  be,  if  the  universe  has  any 


GOD  AND  HOPE  17 

moral  sense  in  it,  lasting  utilities,  enduring  val- 
ues, abiding  splendors.  And  this  is  what  we 
mean  by  God.  He  is  the  conscience  of  the  uni- 
verse. He  surveys  our  human  world.  He  sees 
as  we  do,  but  with  an  appreciation  infinitely 
deeper,  the  high  capacity  of  man.  In  a  multi- 
tude of  cases  it  is  held  down  to  the  form  of  mere 
capacity  by  ignorance,  perversity,  and  the  tragic 
courses  of  society.  Still,  high  capacity  it  remains ; 
shall  not  a  wise  and  noble  universe  rescue  and 
conserve  that  capacity  ?  God  surveys  our  himian 
world  again,  and  notes  moral  excellence,  distinct 
worth,  honor  in  head  and  heart.  He  sees  the 
vision,  the  service,  and  the  worth  of  love.  He 
sees  men  caring  for  one  another,  life  dear  be- 
cause others  are  alive,  and  a  world  of  joy  born 
out  of  this  reciprocity  of  noble  human  hearts. 
This  is  a  vision  found  only  in  man's  world.  Is 
it  not  worth  more  to  a  universe  with  a  conscience 
than  the  entire  realm  of  physical  being  ?  Is  it 
not  a  value  to  the  universe,  a  splendor  in  it  ? 
Shall  not  the  Infinite  conscience  keep  forever 
this  fair  result  ? 

Individually,  men  may  be  willing  to  die  and 
sleep  in  eternal  silence.  They  are  unwilling  that 
their  beloved  should  pass  out  of  being.  They 
are  unwilling  not  only  because  of  the  bereave- 
ment to  themselves,  but  also  because  of  the  sac- 
rifice to  the  universe,  the  outrage  upon  the  work 


18  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

of  the  Infinite.  A  lost  soul,  especially  when  that 
soul  is  a  soul  of  worth  and  beauty,  is  more  than 
the  Eternal  can  well  sustain.  As  Plato  said,  if 
souls  shoidd  die,  the  spiritual  being  of  the  uni- 
verse wotdd  finally  become  extinct.  It  would 
be  hard  to  show  that  spiritual  creation  without 
spiritual  conservation  might  not  come  to  this,  — 
a  universe  become  a  body  of  death,  sunk  to  a 
rubbish-heap.  For  this  result  we  cannot  look,  if 
there  is  sense  and  power  in  the  processes  of  exist- 
ence. Weeds  and  flowers  alike  are  gathered  by 
the  gardener's  hand,  but  for  different  ends.  The 
weeds  are  waste,  the  flowers  are  joy.  Men  and 
all  living  things  are  under  the  power  of  death, 
but,  we  must  believe,  for  different  purposes. 
Men  would  seem  to  belong  to  the  heart  of  the 
universe ;  to  be  among  its  permanent  values, 
splendors,  delights. 

I  have  said  nothing  of  the  suffering  that 
death  brings  to  the  living.  If  it  were  believed 
by  all  bereaved  mothers  and  fathers  that  death 
is  the  end,  that  belief  would  either  degrade  and 
corrupt  the  human  heart,  or  it  woxdd  drive  it 
insane.  Destroy  hope  here  and  you  make  exist- 
ence too  heavy  to  be  borne ;  destroy  hope  here 
and  you  break  down  our  humanity ;  destroy 
hope  here  and  you  call  the  suffering  race  to 
arms  against  the  pitilessness  and  horror  of  the 
universe.    For  it  is  not  mere  ideas  with  which  we 


GOD  AND  nOPE  19 

are  here  dealing ;  it  is  flesh  and  blood,  it  is 
the  loving  and  suffering  heart  of  man ;  it  is  the 
forces  essential  to  the  existence  of  a  living  and 
an  ascending  humanity. 

But  how  shall  this  be  ?  Kill  the  optic  nerve 
and  you  quench  sight,  paralyze  the  auditory 
nerve  and  you  hear  no  more,  destroy  the  sensory 
nerves  and  you  become  dead  to  the  world,  fix 
the  brain  in  the  frost  of  death  and  the  mind  is 
gone.  How  plausible  and  complete  it  sounds. 
We  are  still  the  slaves  of  sense  and  not  its  mas- 
ters. Souls  have  appeared  among  us  in  bodies 
blind,  deaf,  and  dumb ;  they  have  awakened  to 
the  glory  of  our  world,  shared  the  best  life  of 
our  kind,  spoken  to  us  burning  words  out  of  the 
night,  and  we  see  in  this  no  testimony  to  the 
independence  and  sovereignty  of  soul.  We  close 
the  eye,  the  ear,  the  mouth,  and  leave  only  feel- 
ing as  the  outlet  of  thought,  and  look  how  it 
comes  forth  a  river  of  light  and  joy.  We  wish 
to  close  all  means  of  exit  and  still  to  demand 
the  response  of  mind.  We  destroy  the  brain- 
habitation,  and  after  that  we  still  expect  the 
soul  to  answer  our  call.  When  you  take  away 
the  workman's  tools,  you  do  not  expect  him  to 
work.  When  you  pull  his  house  to  the  ground, 
you  expect  him,  if  he  is  wise  and  alert,  to  get 
out  of  it  before  it  falls.  Souls  speak  through 
the  senses.    When  one  sense  after  another  fails^ 


20  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

they  still  speak  through  the  sense  that  remains. 
When  all  the  senses  are  gone,  they  stiU  make 
signs  to  us,  they  signal  to  us  like  ships  in  the 
darkness  plunging  in  heavy  seas.  More  than 
this  we  have  no  reason  to  expect. 

We  do  not  yet  understand  the  meaning  of 
our  greatest  discoveries.  Consider  the  miracle 
of  wireless  telegraphy.  There  is  no  mind  with- 
out brain  ;  so  runs  the  light  atheistic  epigram. 
Here  in  the  wireless  electric  force  is  something 
as  invisible  as  any  soul.  It  leaves  the  body  that 
you  have  made  for  it  and  goes  in  search  of  a 
body  in  the  unseen.  While  out  on  its  errand  it 
is  bodiless,  flying  along  the  constitution  of  the 
world.  Consider  this  current  with  intelligence 
in  it  leaving  a  body  here,  seeking  and  finding  a 
body  there.  So  much  for  a  cosmic  current. 
Shall  we  look  for  less  in  the  human  soul  ? 
When  it  leaves  its  body  in  time,  shall  we  not 
think  of  it  as  a  current  sweeping  the  unseen, 
searching  eternity  for  the  body  which  it  has 
pleased  God  to  prepare  for  it  there,  and  in  that 
body  reporting  the  memories,  the  thoughts,  the 
achievements,  sufferings,  and  hopes  of  its  entire 
earthly  career?  If  with  man  these  wondrous 
transitions  are  possible,  are  the  transitions  of 
souls  from  the  tent  here  to  the  house  not  made 
with  hands,  eternal,  in  the  heavens,  impossible  ? 
Ye  do  greatly  err,  O  hopeless  soul. 


GOD  AND  HOPE  21 

The  last  word  is  between  a  soulless  and  a 
soulful  universe,  a  moral  and  an  unmoral  Infi- 
nite, an  Eternal  whose  attitude  toward  man  is 
one  of  total  indifference,  or  one  of  boundless  love 
and  pity.  At  heart  the  universe  is  either  a  uni- 
verse of  woe  or  of  joy.  And  this  comes  round 
to  the  great  antithesis  with  which  we  began.  It 
is  either  God  and  infinite  hope,  or  atheism  and 
absolute  despair.  We  choose  God  and  infinite 
hope  as  our  faith  because  they  light  up  nature 
to  the  heart,  because  they  account  for  all  the 
precious  things  in  our  human  world,  because 
they  cover  man  in  the  day  of  battle  and  assure 
him  of  final  triumph.  We  reject  atheism  and 
despair  because  they  leave  nature  in  the  black- 
ness of  darkness,  because  they  turn  man  at  his 
best  into  the  burning  criticism  and  condemna- 
tion of  the  universe  that  brought  him  forth,  and 
because  they  convert  the  future  into  life's  grave 
and  love's  horror.  We  abandon  atheism  and 
inhumanity  for  faith  in  the  Lord  God  of  our 
fathers,  for  the  God  and  Father  of  Jesus  Christ. 
For  no  God  and  no  hope  we  substitute  the  Eter- 
nal God  and  infinite  hope.  We  cry  with  the 
Psalmist :  — 

"  Nevertheless  I  am  continually  with  thee  : 
Thou  hast  holden  my  right  hand. 
Thou  shalt  guide  me  with  thy  counsel. 
And  afterward  receive  me  to  glory. 


22  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ? 
And  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside  thee. 
My  flesh  and  my  heart  faileth  : 

But  God  is  the   strength  of  my  heart  and  my  portion 
for  ever." 


n 

THE  HUMANITY  OF   GOD 

"  He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father.'' 

John  xiv,  9. 

The  greatest  thing  that  we  know  is  man ;  the 
greatest  man  that  we  know  is  Jesus  Christ. 
When,  therefore,  we  hear  him  say,  "  He  that 
hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father,"  we  have  a 
guide  to  the  heart  of  the  Eternal  of  infinite 
moment. 

These  words  have  been  used  to  prove  the 
divinity  of  Jesus  Christ ;  I  intend  to  use  them 
as  indicating  the  humanity  of  God.  They  have 
been  used  mainly,  one  might  almost  say  ex- 
clusively, as  giving  a  supremely  exalted  vision 
of  Jesus ;  I  think  they  lead  to  a  supremely 
exalted  and  consoling  vision  of  God.  Jesus  no 
longer  needs  vindication  or  exaltation  ;  we  can- 
not think  of  a  wiser  or  better  than  he.  He  is 
the  best  that  we  know,  and  by  his  sovereign 
goodness  we  judge  individuals,  families,  na- 
tions, and  races  ;  by  it  we  judge  the  universe. 

There  is  something  wonderfully  impressive  in 
this  instinctive  retreat  in  our  time  upon  himian- 
ity.    When  human  nature  is  true  to  itself,  there 


24  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

is  nothing  equal  to  it,  there  is,  indeed,  nothing 
that  will  bear  comparison  with  it  among  things 
that  we  see.  It  appeals  to  sense  by  its  helj^ful- 
ness.  Men  are  needful  to  men ;  the  industry  of 
the  world,  with  aU  its  cruelty,  is  still  organized 
brotherhood.  Men  could  not  sow  and  reap,  spin 
and  weave,  cross  the  land  and  cover  the  sea,  as 
they  do,  but  for  the  help  of  their  kind.  Civili- 
zation is  a  witness  to  the  helpfulness  of  man  to 
man.  Every  building,  farm,  factory,  locomotive, 
ship,  store,  bank,  is  a  presentation  to  the  eye 
of  the  sympathy  in  which  man  lives.  Our  city, 
with  its  schools,  churches,  hospitals,  asylums, 
and  with  all  its  avenues  and  homes  steeped  in 
a  thousand  stirring  and  tender  associations,  is  a 
revfelation  to  sense  of  the  power  of  our  hu- 
manity. 

This  human  nature  reflected  in  history  makes 
its  appeal  to  imagination.  Men  have  done  great 
things :  they  have  set  bounds  to  the  ferocity  of 
nature ;  they  have  turned  the  cosmos  at  a  thou- 
sand points  of  antagonism  into  the  servant  of 
society ;  they  are  now  whispering  their  thought 
into  instruments  of  mechanical  device,  and  the 
whisper  pursues  and  overtakes  the  traveler  by 
land  and  by  sea ;  they  have  wrought  out  lan- 
guages of  great  fullness  and  beauty;  they  have 
entertained  splendid  visions  and  recorded  them 
in  imperishable  words ;  they  have  construed  the 


THE  HUMANITY  OF  GOD  25 

meaning  of  the  nature  beyond  them,  the  nature 
within  them,  and  they  have  created  by  their 
insight  and  sympathy  great  literatures.  They 
have  taken  form,  as  in  sculpture  and  building  ; 
color,  as  in  painting;  sound,  as  in  music  and 
in  poetry,  and  they  have  made  these  the  finished 
and  impressive  representatives  of  the  deepest 
thoughts  and  the  holiest  feelings.  They  have 
established  governments,  and  striven  for  the 
realization  in  human  society  of  sublime  ideals. 
When  one  adds  to  this  achievement  the  greater 
religions,  —  the  religion  of  Buddha,  the  religion 
of  the  Hebrews,  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ,  — 
and  considers  these  religions  as  creations  of  the 
human  soul,  one  is  overawed  in  the  presence 
of  the  range,  the  splendor,  and  the  majesty  of 
man.  When  one  allows  these  great  reflections  of 
man  in  the  vast  and  precious  mirror  of  his- 
tory to  enter  and  possess  the  imagination,  it  is 
impossible  not  to  think  of  him  as  the  superlative 
wonder. 

There  is  in  life  besides  all  this,  love.  Man 
coimts  to  man  more  than  all  else  because  of 
love.  Every  successive  generation  of  lovers  hal- 
lows anew  this  weary  world.  The  light  of  their 
eyes  is  brighter  than  the  sun,  the  treasure  in 
their  hearts  is  beyond  estimate.  They  perpet- 
ually renew  the  meaning  of  existence,  and  con- 
vert the  old  earth  into  a  scene  of  endless  ro* 


26  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

mance  and  tenderness.  Where  is  there  a  hill  or 
valley,  stream  or  lake,  city  or  shore,  that  is  not 
thus  invested  with  the  sanctity  of  the  lover's 
dream  and  passion?  The  planet  rolls  in  an 
atmosphere  fifty  miles  in  depth,  but  deeper  far, 
purer  and  richer  infinitely,  is  that  other  atmos- 
phere in  which  it  flies,  created  out  of  the  heart 
of  the  immemorial  succession  of  lovers.  This 
treasure  that  invests  nature  with  new  meaning  is 
increased  by  every  true  human  home.  A  child 
is  frail,  it  is  indeed  nothing,  measured  against 
the  cosmos,  but  in  value  it  is  infinite.  Here  is 
a  possession  that  makes  great  the  human  heart. 
The  love  of  a  parent  for  a  child  reacts  upon  his 
sense  of  the  worth  of  humanity ;  human  nature 
is  greatened  in  this  passion  ;  every  extension  of 
love  issues  in  a  new  consciousness  of  the  value 
of  man.  The  love  that  counts  the  lives  of  others 
precious,  that  serves  them  in  the  light  of  a  lofty 
ideal,  that  identifies  its  good  with  theirs,  that 
holds  itself  as  the  sovereign  value  in  existence 
and  of  more  worth  infinitely  than  all  that  can  be 
set  against  it,  that  love  which  is  the  core,  the 
highest  working  power,  indeed  nearly  the  whole 
constructive  force  in  human  history,  makes  the 
nature  that  it  glorifies  a  unique  approach  to  the 
Eternal. 

I  have  said  that  this  instinctive  retreat  upon 
our  humanity  is  impressive.    Consider  the  times 


THE  HUMANITY  OF  GOD  27 

in  which  we  live  :  only  a  few  years  since,  man 
was  leveled  down  to  the  animal,  or  the  animal 
was  leveled  up  to  man.  How  old  and  how  fool- 
ish that  error  now  seems !  Where  men  begin  is 
one  thing  ;  to  what  they  come  is  another.  Ori- 
gins are  nothing ;  ends  are  everything.  In  the 
light  of  the  end  the  beginning  is  transformed,  as 
the  fire  of  sunset  sometimes  sweeps  backward 
and  transfigures  the  east.  The  full-grown  man 
shows  the  differentiating  soul  that  lived  in  the 
infant  that  seemed  but  a  bundle  of  animal  wants. 
The  full-grown  man,  in  clear  and  serious  recog- 
nition of  moral  ideals,  in  earnest  and  undis- 
couraged  pursuit  of  them,  strong  with  the  ten- 
der strength  of  a  great  and  wide-reaching  love, 
carries  the  origin  of  life  back  into  the  heart 
of  the  Infinite.  The  man  whom  we  select  as 
hero,  whom  wise  and  good  men  delight  to 
honor,  who  wins  and  keeps  the  confidence  of 
the  enlightened  and  the  upright,  differentiates 
the  humanity  that  he  wears  from  the  animal 
order  beneath  him  by  the  whole  diameter  of 
being.  The  harvest  is  the  great  discriminator  ; 
the  grain,  the  fruit  from  the  garden  and  the 
orchard,  the  various  products  of  the  soil,  are  a 
kind  of  final  judgment  upon  the  character  of 
the  seeds  and  beginnings  whence  they  came. 
They  may  look  alike  at  the  first ;  at  the  last 
they  are  of    widely  different  values    and    uses. 


28  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

Because  man  has  an  animal  life,  he  is  not  there- 
fore in  that  order.  Look  toward  the  end,  con- 
sider the  full-grown  Christian  man,  weigh  the 
worth  of  his  soul,  and  you  will  find  it  easy  to 
believe  in  the  unique  origin,  mission,  and  des- 
tiny of  man. 

Perhaps  the  deepest  words  in  the  Parable  of 
the  Lost  Son  are  these :  "  When  he  came  to 
himself."  He  had  gone  away,  far  away  from 
himself,  he  had  gone  into  the  life  beneath  him, 
where  for  a  time  he  lost  all  memory  of  the  exist- 
ence for  which  he  was  made,  and  where  all  vision 
of  the  heights  above  him  and  the  world  of  love 
that  he  had  left  behind  faded  out.  That  could 
not  last ;  his  nature  was  divinely  made,  and  it 
could  not  permanently  endure  this  outrage  upon 
it.  His  shame,  his  want,  his  isolation,  his  suf- 
fering, was  the  clear  note  of  his  nobility.  It  was 
this  that  gave  him  no  rest,  that  bred  thought, 
that  brought  about  the  great  return.  "  And 
when  he  came  to  himself,"  —  until  that  was 
done,  nothing  of  any  avail  could  be  attempted ; 
when  that  was  done,  all  high  things  became  pos- 
sible. Then  the  vision  returned  of  his  old  home, 
his  father's  love,  the  possibility  of  reinstatement 
in  it,  at  least  of  service  in  the  order  of  his 
father's  home ;  then,  and  greatest  of  all,  came 
the  resolve  :  "  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  father." 
When  he  came  to  himself,  he  returned  to  his 


TEE  HUMANITY  OF  GOD  29 

father,  and  when  we  come  to  our  humanity,  we 
come  to  our  God.  For  an  entire  generation, 
scientists,  scholars,  thinkers,  students  of  current 
literature,  and  reading  men  and  women  went 
away  from  themselves ;  they  dwelt  with  delight 
among  the  forms  of  life  beneath  them,  biology 
was  everything,  anthropology  was  nothing,  or 
only  a  branch  of  the  great  tree  of  life.  So  the 
sense  died  away  of  the  august  meaning  of  our 
human  existence.  So  men  and  women  became 
skeptical  and  hopeless.  So  the  sublime  beliefs 
of  the  world,  and  the  high  wisdom  of  suffering 
and  aspiring  genius,  took  on  the  character  of 
noble  fiction.  There  was  nothing  left  but  natu- 
ral history,  as  of  the  bee  or  the  ant  or  the  tiger, 
invested  with  a  halo  by  the  creative  imagination 
of  man. 

Parallel  to  this  is  the  immemorial  departure 
of  man  from  himself.  Of  the  path  of  selfishness 
it  is  still  true  that  broad  is  the  way  and  wide  is 
the  gate,  and  many  there  be  who  go  in  thereat. 
The  standing  sorrow  and  disgrace  of  our  race  is 
this  immersion  of  man  in  the  life  foreign  to  him. 
Listen  to  an  ape  scraping  a  Stradivarius  violin, 
and  you  have  an  image  of  what  takes  place  when 
man  adopts  from  the  animal  order  unmodified 
the  law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest ;  listen  to 
an  Ole  Bull  using  the  same  instrument,  and  you 
have  a  suggestion  of  the  way  in  which  the  harsh 


30  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

and  terrible  order  beneath  man  is  transfigured 
by  man  when  his  heart  is  full  of  love.  Men 
borrow  the  maxims  of  the  brute  for  the  regula- 
tion of  much  in  life,  —  domestic,  commercial, 
political,  and  international.  War  is  always  the 
ape  tearing  discords  out  of  the  heavenly  violin. 
Conflict  of  every  kind,  the  unbrotherliness  of 
man  to  man,  is  a  departure  from  self.  It  entails 
sorrow,  degradation,  loss ;  it  brings  with  it  in- 
evitably the  ever  feebler  sense  of  the  soul  in  man 
made  for  righteousness,  and  the  soul  in  the 
universe  that  we  call  God.  It  comes  to  regard 
with  ill-concealed  contempt  all  spiritual  beliefs, 
all  spiritual  institutions,  all  thoughts  and  forces 
that  witness  to  the  dignity  of  mankind.  So  far 
as  I  can  discover,  the  only  two  doctrines  that 
appeal  to  men  and  women  who  thus  degrade 
themselves,  who  spend  their  strength  in  a  vital 
slander  upon  the  race  to  which  they  belong,  are 
the  doctrines  of  total  depravity  and  of  a  salva- 
tion that  is  simply  the  dead  hft  of  Omnipotence 
of  a  humanity,  or  elected  portion  of  it,  out  of 
the  gutter  to  which  it  has  sunk.  The  number 
of  rascals  who  have  found  these  two  doctrines 
credible  and  comfortable  is,  I  believe,  very 
great. 

The  word  to  all  is  the  old  message :  "  Repent 
ye  ;  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand  ;  "  re- 
turn to  yourself,  come  again  to  your  abandoned 


THE  HUMANITY  OF  GOD  31 

humanity.  Nowhere  but  here  can  you  find  God, 
nowhere  but  here  can  you  see  the  meaning  of 
human  existence,  nowhere  but  here  can  you 
behold  the  ideals  that  roof  in  the  true  Church 
like  the  starry  order  of  a  Syrian  midnight.  Come 
back  to  the  sense  of  relation  to  your  kind ;  come 
back  to  the  social  order  in  which  you  have  been 
placed,  and  there  acknowledge  duty,  behold  the 
standard  of  it  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  bend  yourself 
to  obedience.  Then,  finding  your  own  human 
soul,  you  will  surely  find  God. 

Look  at  Jesus.  Consider  him  simply  as  the  per- 
fect man.  There  is  no  higher  name  than  that. 
The  language  of  the  creeds  seems  unreal  in  the 
presence  of  his  spotless  and  sublime  humanity. 
We  gain  one  or  two  glimpses  of  his  childhood, 
and  how  full  of  wonder  and  beauty  it  is !  We 
have  one  clear  glance  into  his  boyhood,  and  we 
mark  the  thirst  for  knowledge,  the  reverence  for 
authority,  the  flow  of  deep  questions,  and  the 
high  spirit  that  fill  it  with  grace  and  charm. 
When  we  see  him  again,  he  has  become  a  man, 
he  has  risen  into  the  consciousness  of  his  Father 
in  heaven,  into  the  consciousness  of  his  Sonhood 
to  God.  We  see  him  at  the  Jordan,  accepting 
baptism  as  the  sign  of  the  new  world  that  has 
risen  into  clearness  in  his  soul.  We  follow  him 
into  the  wilderness,  and  watch  him  under  his  gi'eat 
temptation.    In  trial  he  is  so  patient,  so  strong ; 


32  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

and  out  of  trial  he  comes  so  pure  and  mighty. 
We  hear  his  teaching,  we  listen  to  his  parables, 
we  go  with  him  in  his  errands  of  mercy,  and  try 
to  count  his  countless  acts  of  compassion  and 
healing.  We  retire  with  him  for  prayer,  we  come 
again  with  him  to  the  solemn  business  of  living. 
We  keep  close  to  him  while  the  great  misun- 
derstanding concerning  him  grows  blacker  and 
blacker,  we  are  with  him  in  the  heart  of  the 
awful  tragedy.  We  watch  the  supremely  good, 
apprehended,  tried,  condemned,  and  crucified  as 
the  supremely  bad,  and  in  it  all  we  behold  com- 
prehension so  clear,  pity  so  absolute,  strength 
so  victorious.  This  is  man  at  his  highest ;  this 
is  our  humanity  carried  to  its  best.  This  is  the 
glory  of  human  history.  Nothing  is  wanting 
here  that  the  wise  and  noble  mind  can  ask  for  ; 
everything  is  here  that  should  be  present  in 
human  character.  And  it  is  this  perfect  human 
reality  that  gives  to  Jesus  Christ  his  unique 
influence  over  men,  that  lends  to  his  character 
its  endless  interest  for  men.  You  may  call  him 
divine  or  semi-divine,  God  or  the  Son  of  God  ; 
these  are  names,  significant  for  some,  insignifi- 
cant for  others.  What  you  must  note  is  that 
the  sovereign  soul  of  Jesus  is  his  humanity  ;  that 
is  the  reality,  that  is  the  truth  of  his  being. 
Human  nature,  the  greatest  thing  that  we  know, 
becomes  in  him  the  highest  and  best. 


THE  HUMANITY  OF  GOD  33 

The  method  of  approach  to  God  in  the  text 
implies  an  ascent  through  man  to  God,  and  also 
a  descent  of  God  in  man. 

1.  There  is  the  ascent  through  man  to  God.  We 
survey  all  things  that  we  know,  all  forms  of  life 
that  we  know  ;  we  survey  man.  We  know  that 
we  are  bounded  by  the  infinite  as  some  island 
might  know  itself  bounded  by  a  shoreless  sea. 
We  know  ourselves  as  living  in  the  infinite,  as 
this  planet  might  know  itself  as  living  in  the  in- 
finite spaces.  We  long  to  be  able  to  reach  and 
read  the  character  of  the  Eternal.  We  look  at 
all  things,  at  aU  forms  of  life,  as  expressions  of 
the  Eternal ;  we  look  at  man.  Shall  we  construe 
the  character  of  the  Eternal  by  what  is  lowest  or 
by  what  is  highest,  by  the  beast  of  prey  or  by 
the  apostle  of  love,  by  cosmic  hostilities  to  man 
or  by  the  human  heart,  by  the  mystery  of  pain 
and  death  or  by  the  glorious  epoch  of  sacrifice 
and  gladness  in  history,  by  what  is  darkest  and 
most  terrible  or  by  what  is  most  luminous  and 
most  precious  ? 

If  God  is  wholly  like  the  cosmic  hostility  to 
man,  if  He  is  wholly  like  the  beast  of  prey,  how 
could  there  flow  from  Him  all  the  gentleness  and 
beauty  of  the  world  ?  If  He  is  dark  and  cruel, 
if  He  is  loveless  and  pitiless,  how  could  He  have 
made  the  human  heart  ?  If  we  say  that  He  is 
dark  and  cruel,  we  can  no  longer  hold  Him  to 


34  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

he  the  Maker  of  noble  men ;  if  we  hold  Him 
as  the  wise  and  good,  we  find  in  Him  the  Author 
of  our  human  love,  and  if  we  cannot  reconcile 
his  love  with  other  things  that  we  see,  we  can 
wait  until  more  light  shall  arrive.  If  we  read 
God's  character  in  the  light  of  the  lowest  order 
of  life,  we  have  nothing  in  Him  to  account  for 
man  ;  if  we  read  God  wholly  by  the  highest,  we 
fail  to  reconcile  the  forms  of  cruelty  with  his 
character.  But  the  future  may  make  all  this 
plain. 

Now  this  ascent  to  God  through  man  receives 
its  highest  expression  in  Jesus  Christ.  There  is 
nothing  in  God  to  account  for  Jesus  unless  God 
is  love ;  there  is  nothing  in  all  the  universe  to 
account  for  Jesus  unless  at  the  heart  of  the  uni- 
verse there  is  a  love  equal  to  his.  The  cause 
must  equal  the  effect ;  Jesus  is  not  self-created, 
he  points  backward  to  his  origin  in  the  Eternal. 
In  accepting  Jesus  in  his  full  humanity,  we  rise 
to  a  God  who  is  equal  to  the  task  of  creating 
such  a  being  as  Jesus,  and  we  are  justified  in 
holding  that  our  God  is  as  good,  as  kind,  as 
inexhaustible  in  compassion  and  hope  for  man 
as  Jesus  was.  A  God  as  good  as  Jesus ;  that 
we  obtain  by  the  method  of  the  text ;  that  result 
is  the  illumination  and  consolation  of  human 
history ;  for  a  better  than  Jesus  we  do  not  need, 
a  better  than  he  we  cannot  conceive. 


THE  HUMANITY  OF  GOD  35 

2.  This  ascent  through  man  to  God  implies 
a  previous  descent  of  God  in  man.  If  we  can 
find  God  through  man,  it  is  because  God  lives 
in  man.  In  man's  passion  for  truth,  in  the  laws 
of  his  intellect  that  guide  him  in  his  search  for 
truth,  and  in  the  intellectual  integrity  that  is 
his  dearest  mental  possession,  God  has  set  up 
his  order.  In  man's  passion  for  righteousness, 
in  the  laws  of  his  conscience  and  will  that  lead 
him  on  in  the  attainment  of  righteousness,  in 
the  sincerity  and  chastity  of  heart  that  is  his 
most  precious  moral  possession,  God  has  again 
set  up  his  order.  In  man's  passion  for  beauty, 
in  his  wonder  and  joy  in  its  presence,  in  his 
consolation  and  hope  as  he  beholds  the  beautiful 
aspects  of  the  universe,  and  in  his  sweet  oblivion 
as  he  stands  in  the  vision  of  beauty,  God  again 
reveals  his  order.  In  the  heart  of  man  as  lover, 
parent,  son,  friend,  citizen,  in  the  great  and 
constant  tides  of  affection,  in  the  sincerities, 
loyalties,  endearments,  and  most  holy  ardors  of 
the  soul,  God  has  made  an  amazing  disclosure 
of  himself.  In  Him  we  live  and  move  and  have 
our  being,  as  the  bird  in  the  air,  as  the  fish 
in  the  sea,  and  in  us  God  lives  and  moves  and 
has  his  being,  as  the  air  in  the  lung  of  the  fish 
and  of  the  bird,  as  the  living  fire  of  a  living 
imiverse  burns  in  the  blood  of  everything  that 
breathes.    In  the  structure  of  the  intellect,  in 


36  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

the  plan  of  the  conscience,  in  the  order  of 
aesthetic  feeling,  and  in  the  outgoings  of  the 
human  heart,  God  dwells.  The  kingdom  of  God 
is  indeed  within  you,  the  King  is  within  you, 
our  God  is  Immanuel. 

Here  again  in  Jesus  we  see  the  great  revealer. 
There  is  the  intelligence  of  Jesus.  We  are  be- 
ginning to  imderstand  something  of  its  range, 
richness,  depth,  originality,  and,  better  still,  its 
absolute  integrity.  Men  are  more  and  more 
thankful  for  the  comprehension,  the  calmness, 
the  confidence,  and  the  perfect  sanity  of  the 
mind  of  Jesus.  His  thinking  is  a  new  intima- 
tion of  the  Sovereign  Mind  ;  it  is  self-conscious, 
self -directed,  perfectly  normal,  and  yet  there  is 
in  it  the  inevitable  hint  of  the  power  of  the  In- 
finite, such  as  one  gains  from  the  approach  of 
morning  or  evening.  In  sunrise  and  sunset,  in 
the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tides,  in  the  coming  and 
going  of  the  great  constellations,  in  the  whole 
cosmic  order  and  movement,  we  recognize  the 
power  of  the  Eternal ;  and  in  the  intelligence  of 
Jesus,  in  its  wide,  wise,  conclusive,  and  benign 
operation,  there  is  the  intimation  of  God's  pre- 
sence. 

We  come  with  awe  to  the  conscience  of 
Jesus.  He  holds  the  world  to  the  highest  stand- 
ard ;  he  is  boundless  in  compassion,  and  yet  he 
will  rest  in  nothing  but  righteousness.    God  is 


THE  HUMANITY  OF  GOD  37 

to  him  the  righteous  Father ;  righteousness  is 
the  burden  of  his  greatest  discourse,  the  right- 
eousness in  man  that  beholds  and  that  tries  to 
reproduce  the  righteousness  of  God,  The  moral 
nature  of  Jesus  is  incomparably  great ;  the  moral 
universe  that  liv.es  in  the  conscience  of  Jesus  is 
the  sublimest  possession  of  mankind.  And  here 
there  is  even  a  stronger  suggestion  of  Another. 
You  open  a  letter  that  has  come  to  you  from 
afar,  and  in  the  familiar  characters  you  see  a 
soul ;  the  letter  is  not  complete  in  itself,  it  is 
a  message  to  one  soul  from  another.  You  look 
at  the  picture  of  some  dear  friend  ;  the  picture 
calls  up  the  reality  that  it  represents.  You  hear 
the  voice  of  a  friend,  full  of  melody  and  tender- 
ness, and  you  think  of  the  rich  and  tender 
heart  whose  beat  is  in  that  awakening  and  con- 
soling voice.  Now  just  as  that  letter,  that  pic- 
ture, that  voice,  is  incomplete  in  itself ;  just  as 
it  brings  in  the  vision  of  another,  so  the  con- 
science of  Christ  in  its  order,  in  its  sublimity, 
and  in  its  instinctive  and  unerring  action,  brings 
in  the  vision  of  God. 

There  is  in  Jesus  the  sense  of  beauty.  We 
have  noticed  all  too  slightly  and  slowly  this 
aspect  of  his  character.  His  receptivities  are 
fitted  to  the  loveliness  of  the  universe ;  the 
spirit  of  beauty  in  nature  passes  into  his  being 
and  lives  in  his  entire  manner  of  thinking  and 


38  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

speaking.  His  parables  are  bathed  in  the  fresh- 
ness and  charm  of  the  morning;  his  words 
carry  in  them  the  reflected  color  and  tone  of 
beautifid  things,  as  the  bird  carries  in  its  plum- 
age the  burning  mystery  of  light.  The  soul  of 
Jesus  is  alive  to  all  beauty,  —  sea,  mountain, 
wilderness,  the  lilies  of  the  field,  the  birds  of 
heaven,  the  singing  industries  and  cheerful  ways 
of  men,  the  sun  that  shines  equally  on  the  evil 
and  the  good,  the  rain  that  falls  alike  on  the 
just  and  the  unjust.  In  this  vision  in  which  his 
soul  so  often  found  rest,  in  which  he  so  often 
met  God,  we  meet  God.  God  is  within  him  in 
this  wondrous  capacity,  in  this  wondrous  expe- 
rience. The  beauty  of  the  Lord  our  God  is 
within  him  and  upon  him. 

There  is  the  heart  of  Christ.  Who  may 
speak  of  that  ?  Ask  the  little  children  who  can 
never  forget  his  face  as  he  took  them  in  his 
arms  and  blessed  them,  the  mothers  who  came 
to  him  when  in  deepest  anxiety,  the  centurion 
who  appealed  to  him  for  his  son,  the  centurion 
who  besought  him  for  his  servant ;  ask  Mary 
Magdalene,  whose  distress  he  healed,  whose  self- 
respect  he  restored ;  Peter,  whose  disloyalty  he 
forgave,  whose  weakness  he  replaced  with  the 
strength  of  grateful  love ;  John,  whose  whole 
being  he  filled  with  a  celestial  passion ;  the  sis- 
ters in  Bethany,  whose  joy  and  sorrow  he  trans- 


THE  HUMANITY  OF  GOD  39 

figured  ;  the  publicans  and  sinners,  whose  lives 
he  redeemed  from  shame  and  despair  ;  the  men 
who  nailed  him  to  the  cross,  over  whom  he 
prayed :  "  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know 
not  what  they  do ;  "  the  penitent  thief,  who  re- 
received  from  him  as  he  entered  the  great  mys- 
tery the  immortal  assurance :  "  To-day  shalt  thou 
be  with  me  in  Paradise ;  "  the  soldier  who  stood 
guard  under  the  cross,  who  saw  it  all,  and  who 
said :  "  Truly,  this  man  was  the  Son  of  God;  " 
—  ask  all  these,  and  the  multitude  that  no  man 
can  number  whom  they  represent,  what  they 
think  of  the  heart  of  Christ !  The  answer  rolled 
back  with  a  voice  like  the  voice  of  many  waters 
and  mighty  thunderings  must  be  :  "  The  heart 
of  Christ  is  the  sanctuary  of  humanity,  and  the 
presence  that  fills  it  is  the  presence  of  the  King 
Immortal,  invisible,  eternal,  the  only  wise  God, 
our  Father  in  heaven." 

Science  tells  us  of  atoms  and  their  motions, 
and  the  world  is  indeed  a  wonder  as  it  is  thus 
surveyed ;  but  we  refuse  to  believe  that  this 
view  leads  in  any  way  to  a  final  account  of 
being.  Science  tells  us  of  force,  that  it  is  for- 
ever changing  its  form  and  forever  remaining 
the  same,  boundless,  perdurable,  eternal,  defining 
its  life  like  Shelley's  cloud  :  — 

"  I  pass  through  the  pores  of  the  ocean  and  shores  ; 
I  change,  but  I  cannot  die." 


40  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

but  all  the  force  of  which  we  have  any  direct 
knowledge  issues  from  intelligent  will,  and  even 
this  carried  to  infinity  cannot  account  for  our 
human  world.  We  read  of  the  Eternal  as  King 
and  Judge.  Most  true  and  most  solemn  are 
these  designations  of  the  reigning  and  judicial 
presence  in  the  soul  and  in  human  history ;  but 
we  cannot  allow  the  King  and  Judge  to  dim  our 
vision  of  the  Highest.  The  eye  of  the  climber 
on  the  great  mountain  seeks  the  summit ;  thither 
he  tends,  there  and  there  alone  can  his  nature 
rest.  The  vision  of  the  beholder  of  God  sweeps 
ever  upward,  past  God  in  wood  and  stone,  past 
God  in  the  light  of  setting  suns,  in  the  wonder 
that  invests  all  the  spheres  of  life,  beyond  God 
in  the  law  and  order  that  express  themselves  in 
the  lofty  offices  of  king  and  judge  ;  the  eye 
travels  up  to  the  utmost  height  of  the  moral 
being  of  God.  There  and  there  alone  can  the 
vision  of  God  end  in  peace.  The  greatest  thing 
that  we  know  is  man,  the  greatest  man  that  we 
know  is  Jesus  Christ ;  and  our  worthiest  thought 
of  God  regards  Him  as  the  God  and  Father  of 
Jesus  Christ.  The  humanity  of  God  is  given 
in  the  humanity  of  man ;  it  is  given  supremely 
in  the  humanity  of  Jesus.  We  ascend  to  God 
through  man  and  his  sovereign  leader ;  through 
man  and  his  sovereign  leader  we  receive  God. 
This  is  our  faith.    Against  the  wild  indifference 


THE  HUMANITY  OF  GOD  41 

of  the  cosmos,  the  inscrutable  mysteries  of  moral 
wrong,  pain,  and  death,  and  the  fearful  inhu- 
manities of  man  to  man  ;  in  the  presence  of  the 
worthy,  in  the  presence  of  the  Worthiest,  we 
believe  iu  the  dear,  eternal  humanity  of  God. 


m 

MAN  THE  APOSTLE  OF  GOD 

"  There  came  a  man,  sent  from  God,  whose  name  was  John." 

John  i,  6. 

We  speak  of  the  twelve  apostles,  and  we  do  well 
so  to  speak.  We  picture  to  ourselves  these  men 
going  forth  from  Jesus,  by  the  will  of  God,  with 
a  message  for  mankind.  The  picture  is  one  of 
the  loftiest,  one  of  the  most  inspiring  in  human 
history.  So  much  definiteness,  dignity,  scope, 
power,  and  permanent  meaning  enter  the  lives 
of  these  famous  and  happy  men. 

But  there  is  an  earlier  and  broader  apostle- 
ship.  Here  it  is  in  John  the  Baptist.  He  pre- 
ceded Jesus  ;  yet  he  was  an  apostle.  An  apostle 
of  whom  ?  God.  An  apostle  for  whom  ?  God 
in  the  service  of  Jesus.  An  apostle  for  what? 
That  he  might  witness  to  his  time  of  the  High- 
est. And  here  in  the  apostleship  of  the  Baptist 
we  have  the  apostleship  of  humanity :  "  There 
came  a  man,  sent  from  God,  whose  name  was 
John." 

Was  this  the  belief  of  his  parents  and  kindred 
about  the  Baptist?  Was  it  the  belief  of  this 
biographer  of  Jesus,  who  had  been,  at  one  time, 


MAN  THE  APOSTLE  OF  GOD  43 

a  disciple  of  the  Baptist  ?  Or  was  it  the  belief 
of  the  Baptist  about  himself  ?  If  the  text  em- 
bodies the  opinion  of  his  father  and  mother  and 
kindred,  it  is  interesting ;  if  it  records  the  opin- 
ion of  the  author  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,  it  is  still 
more  interesting ;  if  it  holds  the  conviction  of 
the  Baptist  about  himself,  it  is  of  the  highest 
interest.  Let  us  assume  that  this  is  the  case, 
that  the  Baptist  solemnly  believed  that  he  was 
a  man  sent  from  God.  On  the  grovmd  of  this 
assumption  we  must  ask  several  questions,  and 
we  must  try  to  answer  them. 

1.  How  did  the  Baptist  reach  his  assurance  of 
God  ?  How  did  he  move  into  this  consciousness 
of  God  ?  How  did  he  become  clear  and  sure  and 
serene  about  this  infinite  concern  of  the  soul? 

He  was  born  of  religious  parents.  His  home 
was  a  home  of  faith.  His  father  and  mother 
believed  that  all  that  came  to  them  came  by  the 
will  of  the  Highest.  The  boy  was  accustomed  to 
this  way  of  thinking.  He  was  led  to  behold  all 
things  in  God.  He  had  been  told  that  of  all  the 
good  things  that  had  come  from  God  to  his  par- 
ents, he  was  the  best.  He  himself  had  come  from 
God.  All  life,  all  love,  all  great  endowment,  all 
high  opportunity,  all  things  in  the  world,  except 
sin,  had  come  from  God.  In  this  view  of  exist- 
ence the  Baptist  had  been  bred. 

It  cannot  be  too  often  repeated  that  the  loss 


44  THROUGH  MAN  TO   GOD 

of  early  religious  training  is  a  loss  that  can 
never  afterward  be  made  good.  If  indeed  be- 
lief in  God  is  a  superstition,  if  it  is  indulgence 
in  a  mere  dream,  if  it  is  the  creation  of  reality 
out  of  the  pious  but  foolish  imagination,  it  is 
infinitely  better  to  grow  up  without  education 
in  faith.  But  if  there  is  any  least  probability 
that  there  may  be  something  great  answering 
to  our  thought  of  God,  it  is  a  loss  unspeakable 
to  miss  habituation  in  that  thought  in  our  earliest 
years.  For  it  was  observed  by  a  Greek  philo- 
sopher, more  than  two  thousand  years  ago,  that 
the  difference  is  not  slight,  but  immense,  and 
indeed  of  sovereign  moment,  whether  one  is  or 
is  not  trained  from  earliest  years  according  to  the 
truth.  The  young  mind,  like  fine  wool,  takes 
into  itself  forever  the  dye  of  great  ideas. 

This  son  of  priestly  parents  woidd  be  versed 
in  the  history  of  his  people.  He  would  come 
to  know  his  nation  as  founded  by  Moses,  as  led 
by  Joshua,  as  judged  by  Samuel,  as  ruled  by 
David,  as  interpreted  by  Isaiah,  as  consecrated 
in  the  great  Psalms,  as  pondered  in  the  sublime 
mystery  of  its  existence  in  the  epic  of  Job. 
Here  is  a  nation  in  unbroken  association  with 
God.  Its  history,  as  understood  by  those  who 
made  it,  is  a  manifestation  of  God.  Its  origin, 
its  great  epochs,  its  great  leaders,  its  great  ex- 
periences, its  vast  hopes,  are  bound  up  with  the 


MAN  THE  APOSTLE  OF  GOD  45 

belief  in  God.  The  nation  is  inseparable  from 
this  faith  in  God ;  it  is  penetrated  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  justice  and  mercy ;  it  lives  and 
moves  in  Him  as  the  planet  lives  and  moves  in 
the  bosom  of  infinite  space.  This  boy  cannot 
read  a  page  of  national  history  without  meeting 
the  idea  of  God ;  he  cann6t  understand  a  char- 
acter or  an  event  in  that  history  without  assum- 
ing the  reality  of  God.  As  this  boy  absorbs  the 
history,  he  absorbs  the  sense  of  God ;  as  he 
reproduces  the  best  life  of  his  race,  he  repro- 
duces their  highest  faith. 

Is  there  nothing  here  for  us?  Do  the  great 
epochs  of  history  mean  nothing  for  our  time  ? 
Do  we  not  see  in  the  origin  of  Christianity  the 
involvement  of  the  life  of  its  Founder  and  the 
lives  of  his  apostles  with  the  being  of  God  ?  In 
all  the  teachings  of  Jesus,  in  all  the  conduct 
of  Jesus,  in  all  the  sufferings  of  Jesus,  in  his  life, 
and  in  his  death,  he  is  God's.  How  can  we 
understand  this  man  or  his  religion  apart  from 
the  reality  of  God?  How  can  we  understand 
Christianity  as  a  force  in  human  history  apart 
from  the  power  of  God  in  it  ? 

Does  the  Reformation  mean  nothing  on  its 
spiritual  side?  The  hberation  that  it  wrought 
for  the  intellect  we  acknowledge;  the  freedom 
that  it  achieved  for  the  spirit  we  confess.  When 
Luther  stands  before  the  Diet  of  Worms  and 


46  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

pleads  for  the  life  of  reasonable  manhood,  when 
he  there  and  then  opens  wide  the  iron  gate  that 
for  a  thousand  years  had  kept  the  intellect  of 
Europe  in  bondage,  when  he  at  a  single  stroke 
inaugurates  the  modern  epoch  with  its  free  hu- 
manity and  its  vast  hope,  are  we  to  detach  this 
service  from  the  idea  that  made  it  possible  for 
the  strong  man  to  do  his  work  ?  It  all  came  from 
the  happy  and  triumphant  sense  of  God.  For 
Luther,  God  was  in  it  all.  The  man  who  did  this 
monumental  deed  believed  that  he  did  it  by  the 
inspiration  of  God.  Does  this  count  for  nothing  ? 
To  many  Cromwell's  piety  has  seemed  pure 
hypocrisy.  Why?  Because  they  desired  no 
change ;  because  they  were  satisfied  under  Charles 
I ;  because  they  did  not  revolt  at  tyranny ;  be- 
cause they  were  without  the  aspirations  of 
freemen.  To  others  Oliver  Cromwell  means 
something  great  and  noble.  Here  was  a  nation 
to  be  delivered.  Here,  as  Milton  said,  was  the 
people  of  England  to  be  defended.  Here  was  a 
system  of  despotism,  controlling  church  and  state, 
and  standing  like  a  monster  with  its  heel  on  the 
neck  of  a  great  race.  And  here  is  Oliver  Crom- 
well confronting  all  that.  He  cannot  right  this 
hideous  wrong  in  his  own  strength.  He  can  do 
it  only  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts. 
The  deed  is  done,  the  nation  is  freed,  the  new 
epoch  of  English  democracy  is  inaugurated,  and 


MAN  THE  APOSTLE  OF  GOD  47 

Oliver  Cromwell  says  it  is  the  Lord  that  hseth. 
done  this,  and  it  is  marvelous  in  our  eyes.  Is 
no  respect  due  to  the  consciousness  of  the  man 
who  brought  about  this  vast  and  wholesome 
revolution  ?  To  him  God  was  wisdom,  power,  and 
triumph ;  shall  He  be  to  us  only  the  pure  dream 
of  a  strong  man  ? 

When  in  the  Continental  Congress  meditating 
great  things  the  chaplain  is  called,  and  the  whole 
assembly  joins  in  prayer  to  Almighty  God,  when 
out  of  this  mood  begotten  by  faith  and  worship 
there  issues  the  manhood  that  makes,  that  sup- 
ports, that  forever  establishes  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  are  we  to  accept  the  gift  of  a 
nation  born  in  the  sense  of  God,  defended  in 
the  consciousness  of  God,  educated  into  strength 
by  men  who  confessed  that  God  is  the  final 
refuge  of  afflicted  peoples,  and  are  we  to  reject 
or  regard  as  weak,  or  vain,  or  empty  the  solemn 
feeling  for  the  Eternal  in  which  the  country 
lives?  When  we  read  Abraham  Lincoln's  Sec- 
ond Inaugural,  when  we  hear  the  man  speak 
who  had  done  most,  who  had  suffered  most,  that 
this  nation  might  continue  one  and  indivisible, 
are  we  not  moved  in  sympathy  when  he  lays 
bare  the  foundations  of  his  mind  as  a  mind  rest- 
ing in  God,  built  up  out  of  God,  filled  with  the 
consolation  and  hope  that  faith  in  the  Highest 
alone  can  bring  to  man  ? 


48  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

But  this  Hebrew  boy  came  yet  nearer  to  the 
great  mystery.  He  became  a  man.  He  found 
within  himself  the  war  between  desire  and  duty, 
between  the  flesh  and  the  spirit,  between  the 
high  moral  ideal  and  the  baser  passions  of  his 
being.  Here  in  his  mind  is  the  sublime  image 
of  what  he  ought  to  be.  That  image  is  his  ideal. 
It  lays  upon  him  the  obligation  to  become  a  just 
and  good  man.  Here  are  his  passions.  They  care 
nothing  for  the  just  and  good  life,  they  want 
only  their  own  gratification.  And  here  is  the 
youth  conscious  of  this  war  in  his  being.  Here 
he  stands,  looking  toward  his  ideal  with  honor  in 
his  eyes,  with  strong  resolve  in  his  heart ;  there  he 
is  sore  beset,  baffled  often,  turned  back,  brought 
almost  to  despair  by  his  sense  of  weakness.  He 
finds  himself  as  far  behind  his  ideal  as  when  in 
awe  and  in  tears  he  first  beheld  it  rise  in  his  soul. 
His  moral  career  is  arrested.  He  is  unable  to 
advance,  the  hope  of  his  conscience  begins  to 
fade.  He  is  unable  to  become  the  man  that  he 
yet  knows  that  he  ought  to  become.  Here  he 
returns  to  God.  He  tests  the  reality  of  his  faith. 
He  opens  his  nature  to  God.  More  and  more  he 
lives  and  moves  and  has  his  being  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  God,  and  he  comes  forth  clad  with 
conquering  power,  free,  joyous,  able  to  follow  in 
the  fiery  path  of  his  flying  ideal. 

Has  the  youth  of  to-day  no  such  experience? 


MAN   THE  APOSTLE  OF  GOD  49 

Has  he  not  his  high  moral  ideal  ?  Has  he  not 
his  contrary  winds,  his  opposing-  passions  ?  Are 
not  his  resolves  often  broken  in  defeat  ?  Are  not 
his  efforts  often  rewarded  with  despair?  Who 
can  give  him  the  victory  over  himself  ?  Who  can 
enable  him  to  become  a  just  and  good  man? 
Who  can  give  him  a  pure  heart  ?  Who  can  fill 
him  with  reverence  and  tenderness  in  the  pre- 
sence of  human  life  ?  He  tries  the  old  faith.  He 
puts  to  the  test  the  thought  of  God.  He  does  it 
like  a  man,  deeply,  devoutly,  persistently,  with 
the  whole  energy  of  his  nature.  He  puts  himself 
under  the  sway  of  the  thought  of  God.  Look  at 
his  face ;  it  is  not  the  same  face.  Look  at  his 
character  and  note  its  strength.  Look  at  his  ex- 
perience and  mark  its  growing  harmony.  Look 
at  his  life  and  behold  the  freedom,  power,  and 
joy  of  it.  This  man  has  found  God,  like  Jacob 
of  old.  He  has  wrestled  with  God  for  the  con- 
servation of  the  ideal,  for  the  reconciliation 
of  duty  and  desire,  and  he  has  prevailed.  He  has 
gone  forth  with  the  blessing  of  the  Eternal  upon 
his  invigorated  and  prevailing  spirit.  He  cries 
with  the  energy  of  the  apostle,  "  I  know  him 
whom  I  have  believed."  Again  he  cries,  "That 
which  we  have  heard,  that  which  we  have  seen 
with  our  eyes,  that  which  we  beheld,  and  our 
hands  handled,"  declare  we  unto  you.  The  exi- 
gency of  the  spiritual  life  has  made  the  faith  of 


60  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

the  ages,  the  faith  of  his  fathers,  his  personal 
faith.  For  religion  at  second  hand,  he  has  re- 
ceived, through  the  moral  struggle  of  existence, 
an  original  revelation,  a  personal  vision  of  God. 

2.  Our  second  question  is  this :  How  did 
the  Baptist  come  to  believe  that  he  was  sent  of 
God  ?  Did  this  faith  come  to  him  all  at  once  ? 
If  it  came  to  him  as  a  vision,  was  it  not  a  vision 
that  disclosed  its  meaning  slowly  ?  Did  not 
doubts  now  and  then  assail  him  ?  Was  he  not 
tempted  at  times  to  conclude  that  his  existence 
was  too  mean  and  brief  to  sustain  any  high 
relation  to  the  Eternal  ?  If  it  was  a  prevailing 
faith,  a  struggling  and  yet  victorious  belief, 
like  the  ship  that  holds  on  her  way  in  spite  of 
head  winds  and  heavy  seas  and  cloudy  skies, 
how  did  he  reach  it?  Was  it  a  theory  of  Hfe, 
a  philosophy  of  his  personal  existence  ? 

It  was  this.  Like  other  men,  he  was  bound  to 
study  himself  ;  like  them,  he  was  bound  to  find 
his  special  vocation.  Like  all  true  men,  he  was 
bound  to  relate  his  special  vocation  to  the  God 
in  whom  he  believed,  and  to  the  higher  life  of 
the  people  whom  he  served.  As  he  became  the 
object  of  his  own  thought,  as  his  nature  stood 
in  the  vision  of  his  own  intelligence,  he  saw  that 
his  special  vocation  was  that  of  a  preacher  of 
righteousness.  This  was  the  thing  for  which  he 
was  best  fitted ;  this  was  the  work  to  which  his 


MAN  THE  APOSTLE  OF  GOD  51 

strongest  desires  led  him.  And  this  task  of  pro- 
claiming the  fundamental  interest  for  his  race 
of  righteousness  related  him  as  servant  to  the 
righteous  will  of  God.  He  went  to  his  task.  He 
gave  himself  to  it.  He  suffered  for  it  in  a  thou- 
sand ways.  More  and  more  he  took  refuge  in 
the  Almighty  righteousness.  Here  he  found  his 
message,  and  here  he  was  clothed  with  power 
to  declare  it.  He  came  to  see  that  here  lay  the 
highest  significance  of  his  existence  in  this  world. 
He  was  sent  forth  from  the  Eternal  conscience 
with  a  message  to  the  conscience  of  his  race. 

No  believer  in  God  and  in  the  tremendous 
moral  need  of  man  can  doubt  that  the  Baptist 
was  right  in  his  high  faith  about  himself.  But 
how  is  it  possible  to  believe  that  ordinary  per' 
sons  are,  in  any  true  sense,  apostles  of  God? 
How  can  we  reach  the  consoling  assurance  that 
we  are  sent  into  this  world  on  a  high  errand 
from  God? 

We  must  ask  what  is  the  highest  function, 
the  chief  end  of  man  ?  Is  it  simply  to  eat  and 
to  drink,  and  to-morrow  to  die  ?  Is  man's  essen- 
tial life  one  of  sensuous  enjoyment?  Is  he  ful- 
filling all  the  capacities  of  his  being  when  he 
gathers  food  like  the  ant  or  bee,  when  he  herds 
with  his  kind  like  the  beasts  of  the  field,  when 
he  organizes  himseK  into  a  society  for  purposes 
of  trade  and  physical  comfort,  when  he  reads  his 


52  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

own  history  as  part  of  the  animal  life  of  the 
world,  when  he  considers  himself  in  purpose  and 
conduct  wholly  in  the  power  of  pleasure  and 
pain,  and  concludes  that  in  origin,  career,  and 
destiny  he  is  altogether  of  this  world,  a  mere 
creature  of  space  and  time  ? 

No  believer  in  God  can  accept  this  account 
of  human  existence.  Man  has  a  supreme  end. 
That  supreme  end,  according  to  an  ancient  phi- 
losopher, is  activity  in  the  line  of  the  highest 
excellence.  That  activity  at  length  carries  the 
mind  upward  where,  in  rare  moments,  it  can 
share  the  beatitude  of  the  Eternal  mind.  Ac- 
cording to  the  old  catechism,  man's  chief  end 
is  to  glorify  God  and  to  enjoy  Him  forever. 
These  definitions  call  up  a  range  of  experience 
of  which  all  true  men  are  conscious.  The  deepest 
need  of  man  is  the  need  of  a  sound  mind  and  a 
clean  heart.  The  deepest  need  of  society  is  the 
same.  The  sound  mind  and  the  humane  heart,  in 
the  industrial  sphere,  in  the  social  realm,  in  the 
world  of  politics,  in  the  vast  and  complicated 
life  of  mankind,  would  issue  in  a  new  heaven 
and  a  new  earth. 

In  our  final  account  of  ourselves  we  find  that 
we  stand  face  to  face  with  the  vocation  of  the 
Baptist.  What  was  his  special  vocation  turns 
out  to  be  our  final  vocation.  Our  last,  our 
supreme  interest  is  in  righteousness.    If  we  are 


MAN   THE  APOSTLE  OF  GOD  53 

lovers,  our  love  must  be  filled  with  rectitude  ;  if 
we  are  husbands  and  wives,  our  existence  in  that 
august  relation  must  be  under  the  dominion  of 
righteousness ;  if  we  are  fathers  and  mothers,  our 
privilege  must  be  fired  with  the  sense  of  duty. 
For  what  can  be  said  in  honor  of  parents,  if 
they  fail  to  train  their  children  in  moral  power, 
if  they  fail  to  set  them  in  the  centres  of  moral 
influence,  if  they  do  not  give  them  the  sense  of 
the  transcendent  worth  of  clean  hands  and  a 
pure  heart?  If  we  are  related  to  one  another 
as  masters  and  servants,  our  fundamental  inter- 
est is  still  righteousness.  In  that  great  relation 
the  final  question  is  this:  Are  we  just  in  it? 
Are  we  faithful  as  servants?  Are  we  humane 
as  masters  ?  And  when  we  come  to  politics,  we 
shall  not  differ.  If  there  is  any  one  thing  for 
which  above  all  other  things  the  statesman 
shoidd  stand,  it  is  righteousness.  The  states- 
man cannot,  perhaps,  avoid  mistakes.  He  may 
not  always  be  able  to  see  the  thing  fittest  and 
best.  And  here  good  men  may  differ  and  differ 
widely.  But  the  purpose  shoidd  be  straight,  the 
aim  should  be  true.  This  is  the  deepest  lesson 
in  the  career  of  Mr.  Gladstone.  He  made  many 
mistakes.  He  saw  them,  and  like  a  man  he  con- 
fessed them  with  regret.  And  yet  he  held,  and 
could  truthfully  hold,  that  his  eye  had  been  single. 
By  those  who  differed  from  him,  no  less  than  by 


64  THBOUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

those  who  agreed  with  him,  it  was  confessed 
that  here  was  a  great  Christian  statesman.  His 
vocation  as  a  politician  was  national,  interna- 
tional, human  righteousness. 

What,  then,  is  our  conclusion  ?  That  the  last 
and  highest  intention  of  our  being  is  that  we 
become  wise  in  mind  and  sound  in  heart ;  that 
man  becomes  man  by  dealing  justly,  loving 
kindness,  and  walking  humbly  with  God.  Here 
is  the  final  meaning  of  our  being,  —  a  society  of 
men  living  in  righteousness.  And  in  the  service 
of  this  solemn  end,  aU  true  thoughts,  all  ex- 
alted feelings,  all  high  endeavors,  are  subject  to 
the  inspiration  of  God.  As  one  purposes  in  his 
heart  to  be  just  and  to  help  to  make  the  world 
just,  he  entertains  God's  thought  concerning 
him  when  God  created  him.  This  man  becomes 
more  and  more  inspirable  under  God  as  the  poet, 
true  to  his  poetic  gift,  becomes  more  and  more 
inspirable  under  the  appeal  of  nature  and  under 
the  vision  of  humanity.  We  know  that  we  are 
sent  from  God  because  God  is  a  righteous  God, 
and  because  the  supreme  and  endless  interest  of 
man  is  righteousness.  We  come  from  God  to 
repeat,  as  far  as  we  may,  in  the  fields  of  time 
the  eternal  righteousness.  As  the  needle  in  the 
compass  turns  toward  the  pole,  as  it  knows  its 
function  however  wide  and  wild  and  lonely  the 
sea  may  be,  as  it  keeps  in  all  zones  and  in  all 


MAN  THE  APOSTLE  OF  GOD  66 

seasons,  and  in  all  the  vexed  courses  of  its  life 
the  sense  that  it  is  a  witness  to  a  greater  than 
itself,  so  man  trembles  toward  the  Infinite. 
When  true  to  himself,  he  knows,  in  all  gales  of 
passion,  on  every  sea  of  interest,  on  the  boimd- 
less  stormy  ways  of  ambition,  on  the  shoreless 
human  meanings  of  home,  industry,  citizenship, 
and  racial  fellowship,  that  he  was  made  to  tes- 
tify of  another,  a  mightier,  a  juster,  and  a 
kinder  than  himself.  The  vocation  of  the  mag- 
netic needle  is  to  point  toward  the  pole;  the 
vocation  of  man  is  to  bear  witness  to  God. 

3.  What  did  the  Baptist  mean  by  his  apostle- 
ship?  This  is,  after  all,  the  deepest  question. 
We  must  not  linger  long  among  words ;  we 
must  go  to  the  realities  which  they  represent. 
We  must  descend  into  the  world  of  meanings. 
There  is  the  home  of  the  intellect,  there  is  the 
inspiration  of  the  heart. 

We  may  well  believe  that  this  great  man  saw 
clearly  that  only  a  moral  being  can  reveal  the 
moral  God.  If  the  Supreme  Being  were  power 
and  only  power,  the  cosmos  would  be  a  mightier 
apostle  of  the  Infinite  than  man.  If  the  Eternal 
were  power  and  wisdom  and  no  more,  again  the 
heavens  would  declare  his  glory,  and  the  firma- 
ment would  show  his  handiwork,  as  man  could 
not.  But  if  we  do  not  reach  the  core  of  the 
Eternal  imtil  we  come  to  his  conscience,  imtil 


66  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

we  touch  his  love,  then  not  nature  but  man,  not 
the  cosmos  but  humanity,  is  the  great  apostle  of 
his  being.  In  the  order  that  on  the  whole  favors 
the  good,  and  that  goes  against  the  evil,  in  the 
law  that  ordains  that  the  wicked  shall  perish 
from  among  men,  and  that  the  meek  shall  in- 
herit the  earth,  there  is  indeed  one  great  witness 
to  the  conscience  of  the  Most  High.  Even  this 
witness  is  a  witness  through  society.  Besides,  it 
leaves  us  at  the  threshold  of  the  vast  subject. 
And  other  similar  observations  lead  little  nearer 
the  heart  of  the  matter. 

It  is  undeniable  that  only  a  moral  being  can 
mediate  a  moral  God.  If  God  is  spirit,  if  He  is 
both  hidden  in  the  order  of  the  universe  and  an 
infinite  excess  of  goodness  over  and  above  that 
order,  where  is  the  path  for  this  lightening  of 
the  Divine  love,  if  man  is  not  ?  Only  the  intel- 
lect of  man  can  discover  and  declare  the  thoughts 
of  God;  only  the  conscience  of  man  can  behold 
and  reveal  the  conscience  of  God  ;  only  the  heart 
of  man  can  receive  and  proclaim  the  love  of 
God;  only  the  moral  wiU  of  man  can  apprehend 
and  utter  the  moral  power  of  God.  God  as 
might,  as  wisdom  and  might,  lives  and  speaks  in 
the  cosmos  ;  but  God  as  a  moral  being  lives  and 
speaks  only  in  a  moral  humanity. 

Can  your  home,  ever  so  richly  and  artistically 
furnished,  tell  your  guest  the  whole  of  your  char- 


MAN  THE  APOSTLE  OF  GOD  57 

acter?  At  best,  there  is  in  that  home  only  a  hint 
of  your  soul.  Can  your  sweet  canary  bird,  your 
faithful  horse,  or  your  devoted  dog  express  your 
character?  Can  anything  or  any  creature  below 
your  own  humanity  reveal  the  essential  truth 
of  your  spirit?  Can  any  order  of  things,  can 
any  race  of  creatures,  declare  about  you  what 
your  lovely  child  can  declare?  If  you  are  to 
reach  your  friend  by  means  of  another,  here  is 
your  Mediator.  Here  is  the  child  that  has  lived 
in  your  mind,  seen  the  honor  of  your  conscience, 
rejoiced  in  the  love  of  your  heart,  grown  strong 
under  the  might  of  your  character.  That  recep- 
tive, responsive,  obedient,  happy  child  can  repre^- 
sent  you  to  your  guest.  That  child  can  reveal 
your  thought,  interpret  your  honor,  express  your 
love,  utter  your  strength  and  dignity.  In  that 
gracious  filial  revelation  your  guest  beholds  your 
soul.  This  universe  is  God's  house.  It  is  ordered 
in  an  infinite  profusion  of  great  and  beautiful 
things.  It  is  crowded  with  countless  races  of 
living  creatures.  The  things  and  the  creatures 
may  tell  us  wonderful  stories  about  the  house 
whose  builder  and  maker  is  God.  But  the  soul 
of  our  Eternal  host,  the  inmost  character  of  the 
Infinite,  can  be  told  to  man  only  by  man.  Only 
the  men  who  live  in  the  thought  of  God,  who 
behold  the  moral  integrity  of  God,  who  dwell  in 
the   consciousness  of  his  loving-kindness,  who 


58  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

rise  up  into  strength  under  the  inspiration  of 
his  spirit,  —  only  they  can  reveal  the  intellect, 
the  conscience,  the  heart,  the  deep  soul,  the 
eternal  humanity  of  our  God.  God  speaks  in 
the  stone,  but  not  to  it ;  God  declares  himself  in 
the  animal  world,  but  not  to  it;  God  reveals  his 
sold  in  man,  and  He  reveals  it  to  man  through 
man. 

Think  of  the  man  who  went  down  from  Jeru- 
salem to  Jericho.  That  wild  road  has  little  to 
say  about  the  God  and  Father  of  men.  The 
robber  who  beats  the  wayfarer,  strips  him,  and 
leaves  him  half  dead,  seems  a  not  too  severe 
representative  of  the  wild  and  pitiless  nature 
that  looks  upon  him  in  his  distress.  The  priest 
ftnd  the  Levite  again  remind  him  of  the  utter 
sphinx-like  indifference  of  the  cosmos  to  man's 
need  and  man's  agony.  The  good  Samaritan 
changes  the  horror  into  joy.  He  speaks  and  acts 
for  something  in  the  universe  like  himself,  but 
infinitely  higher.  In  that  wild  path,  in  that 
tragic  scene,  he  is  the  only  speaker  for  the  God 
of  love.  That  lonely  and  perilous  road  is  the 
path  of  mankind  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 
There  is  no  God  in  this  modern  descent  from 
Jerusalem  to  Jericho  till  the  good  Samaritan 
comes  upon  the  scene.  Our  good  Samaritan 
imdoes  the  atheism  of  limited  and  helpless 
nature,  the  atheism  of  the  brutal  robber,  the 


MAN   THE  APOSTLE  OF  GOD  59 

atheism  of  the  scornful  and  indifferent  priest 
and  Levite.  He  reveals  through  his  own  just 
and  humane  soul  the  just  and  humane  soul  of 
God. 

Here  we  see  the  central  meaning  of  the  career 
of  Jesus.  Jesus  stands  for  a  method  of  reve- 
lation and  its  ideal  use.  The  supreme  path  of 
God  is  through  the  humanity  of  Jesus  ;  the  per- 
fect humanity  of  Jesus  supplies  the  ideal  path. 
This  is  the  heart  of  the  Gospel.  God  who  in 
sundry  times  and  in  divers  manners  spake  unto 
the  fathers  by  the  prophets  hath  in  these  last 
days  spoken  unto  us  in  his  son.  The  humanity 
of  the  prophets  leads  to  the  hiunanity  of  Jesus, 
as  the  foot-hiUs  lead  to  ever  higher  ranges  till 
the  sovereign  summit  is  at  last  reached.  The 
path  to  God  has  ever  been  to  man  through  man. 
Jesus  takes  this  universal  and  immemorial 
method  of  God  in  speaking  to  men,  lifts  it  to 
an  ideal  use  in  his  own  career,  bequeaths  it  to 
his  disciples,  and  calls  upon  them  to  become,  as 
he  had  been,  the  light  of  the  world. 

Think  of  the  splendor  of  our  humanity  ac- 
cording to  this  faith.  We  speak  of  the  cathedral 
window.  We  speak  of  its  richness  in  color,  of 
its  variety  and  majesty  in  figure.  But  the  win- 
dow is  only  glass,  made  of  sand  and  seaweed, 
dust  and  ashes,  lifted  into  coherence,  curiously 
wrought,  yet  with  one  great  redeeming  capacity. 


60  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

It  is  so  made  as  to  become  a  prism  for  the  light. 
In  the  unfolded  glory  of  the  light  it  lives ;  in 
that  unfolded  glory  it  glows  and  burns  with  its 
himdred  fires  and  hues.  In  the  light  whose 
heart  it  opens  there  is  the  distinction  and  dignity 
of  its  existence.  That  is  humanity.  It  is  of  the 
earth  earthy.  It  is  made  of  flesh  and  blood.  It 
is  of  the  animal  order,  but  not  wholly  so.  It  is 
born  to  die,  and  yet  it  holds  within  itself  a 
transcendent  capacity.  It  stands  in  the  great 
flood  of  light  that  falls  from  the  Creator  upon 
his  universe.  It  becomes  the  prism  for  that 
light.  What  is  but  pale  common  light  as  it  falls 
upon  things  and  upon  creatures,  becomes  in  man 
the  ruby  of  love,  the  gold  of  truth,  the  blue  of 
an  eternal  tenderness,  the  thousand  glorious 
colors  and  gracious  tints  of  the  heart  of  our  God 
who  is  the  Father  of  lights.  To  stand  in  God  as 
the  window  stands  in  the  sunlight,  to  reveal  God 
in  our  moral  character  as  the  window  reveals 
the  light,  here  is  the  mission,  here  is  the  splen- 
dor, of  man. 

There  is,  however,  a  solemn  side  to  this  privi- 
lege. Where  there  is  no  sense  of  God,  it  is  not 
the  cosmos,  it  is  not  the  wild  beast,  that  is  to 
blame  ;  it  is  the  man  who  has  become  as  mechan- 
ical as  the  cosmos,  as  merciless  as  the  wild  beast. 
For  the  revelation  of  the  moral  Deity  the  cosmos 
was  not  commissioned,  the  wild  beast  was  not 


MAN   THE  APOSTLE  OF  GOD  61 

sent.  The  human  soul  alone  can  give  us  the 
human  God.  And  where  man  fails  in  love,  God 
fails  in  revelation.  Usually,  therefore,  atheism 
and  lovelessness  go  together.  The  loveless  heart 
sees  in  itself  no  evidence  of  God ;  the  loveless 
heart  in  a  pitiless  society  sees  no  evidence  any- 
where of  a  Father  in  heaven.  Should  love  and 
pity  die  out  of  humanity,  all  high  evidence  of 
God's  being  will  also  die  out  of  humanity's 
thought.  Oh,  the  atheisms  that  are  due  to  the 
failure  of  men  in  kindness  one  to  another,  to 
the  failure  of  men  in  their  own  love  and  pity  to 
suggest,  to  reveal,  the  love  and  pity  of  God! 
Deal  justly,  love  kindness,  and  walk  humbly 
with  thy  God.  Justice  comes  first,  not  because 
it  is  the  more  fundamental  excellence,  but  be- 
cause it  opens  the  door  into  the  temple  in  which 
it  is  transfigured.  Kindness  comes  second,  not 
because  it  is  inferior  to  justice,  but  because  it  is 
nearer  to  God,  because  it  makes  human  rectitude 
a  finer  thing,  and  fits  it  for  the  utterance  of 
God  made  possible  through  fellowship  with  God. 
Here  is  the  solemn  lesson  to  the  Church. 
The  Church  is  a  society  of  Jesus.  It  is  a  society 
formed  for  the  expression  of  the  spirit  of  Jesus, 
that  the  sense  of  the  God  and  Father  of  Jesus 
Christ  may  continue  in  the  world.  The  world 
cries,  "  Where  is  thy  God  ?  "  What  does  that 
cry  mean  ?   It  is  a  demand  upon  the  Church.    It 


62  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

asks,  Where  is  your  spiritual  mind,  your  enlight- 
ened conscience,  your  sympathy,  your  compas- 
sion ?  Where  is  your  enduring  kindness  ?  Where 
are  your  good  deeds,  your  devout  and  devoted 
lives  ?  Only  through  these  can  we  keep  God 
for  ourselves ;  only  through  these  can  we  give 
the  sense  of  God  to  the  world.  The  only  avail- 
ing evidence  for  a  spiritual  God  is  the  spiritual 
life  of  the  children  of  God ;  the  only  adequate 
witness  for  the  humanity  of  God  is  the  kindness 
of  those  who  believe  in  Him. 

Our  world  is  a  kind  of  colossal  feudal  castle. 
It  is  in  its  substance  matter  ordered,  matter 
built  into  form,  stone  and  lime  wrought  into  a 
vast  structure,  holding  within  itself  indeed  the 
design  of  its  Maker,  but  providing  at  first  only 
chinks  and  holes  and  no  windows  for  the  Eternal 
light,  the  Infinite  spirit  who  is  other  and  more 
than  the  realm  of  nature.  In  this  natural  world 
we  build  a  human  world.  On  this  colossal  feu- 
dal castle  our  Master  built  the  tower  that  stands 
forever  in  the  open  day.  Thither  men  go  up  for 
the  vision  of  God.  The  true  disciples  of  Jesus 
open  windows  in  the  great  structure ;  the  succes- 
sion of  disciples  means  a  succession  of  windows. 
The  issue  of  this  succession  is  man  in  the  reveal- 
ing power  of  his  humanity  standing  in  the  heart 
of  nature ;  the  old  castle  thus  becomes  the 
enduring  framework  for  the  countless  windows 


MAN   THE  APOSTLE  OF  GOD  63 

that  have  been  set  in  it.  The  order  of  the  cosmos 
is  the  frame  for  a  new  and  a  translucent  human- 
ity. Human  goodness  is  the  terrestrial  prophet 
of  the  goodness  of  God. 

But  if  goodness  builds  windows  through  which 
God  may  shine  upon  men,  wickedness,  inhuman- 
ity, puts  in  the  place  of  the  window  the  wall 
of  stone.  Here  one  sees  the  tremendousness  of 
an  unkind  life.  It  shuts  God  out  of  the  world. 
It  reduces  man  to  the  level  of  the  cosmos. 
The  mechanism  and  the  pitilessness  of  physical 
nature  claim  and  consume  our  humanity  as  the 
lean  kine  in  Pharaoh's  dream  devoured  the  fat 
kine.  And  when  the  distinctive  world  of  man  is 
gone,  God  is  gone ;  when  you  have  destroyed  the 
army  of  finite  lovers,  you  have  banished  the  Infi- 
nite lover ;  when  you  have  degraded  man  to  the 
level  of  the  animal,  you  have  abandoned  the  hope 
of  a  translucent  society  turned  toward  the 
Eternal  light,  you  have  broken  all  the  windows 
in  your  colossal  feudal  castle,  you  have  filled  the 
vacant  spaces  with  the  opaque  and  unreveal- 
ing  stone.  The  hope  of  a  continuous  witness  for 
the  Eternal  love  stands  or  falls  with  the  hope 
of  a  race  putting  itself  more  and  more  under 
the  dominion  of  love.  The  society  of  lovers  is 
the  kingdom  of  God;  the  kingdom  of  God  is  tha 
great  hmuan  witness  for  God. 


IV 
PERSONALITY  AND  THE  TRUTH 

"  Jesus  saith  unto  him,  I  am  .  ,  .  the  truth." 

John  xiv,  6. 

The  deepest  question  ever  put  to  Jesus  was  put 
by  Pontius  Pilate.  Even  if  he  did  not  stay  for 
an  answer,  even  if  he  spoke  in  jest,  Pilate,  when 
he  framed  his  great  question,  became  for  one 
supreme  moment  the  representative  of  humanity. 
And  it  is  profoundly  interesting  that  not  from  a 
Jew,  nor  from  a  Greek,  not  from  a  believer  in 
special  revelation,  nor  from  an  upholder  of  the 
insight  of  reason,  but  from  a  Roman  politician 
came  the  great  demand  :  What  is  truth  ?  That 
the  demand  is  a  human  demand  appears  with 
extraordinary  impressiveness  when  we  see  it  issu- 
ing from  the  damaged  humanity  of  a  man  like 
Pilate.  We  are  not  surprised  when  we  hear  Job 
sighing :  "  Oh  that  I  knew  where  I  might  find 
him ! "  We  expect  the  just  and  the  good  to 
seek  after  God.  When  we  hear  the  same  vast 
sigh  upon  the  lips  of  weak  and  sinful  men,  we 
are  amazed.  Nicodemus  the  Pharisee  and  Zac- 
cheus  the  publican  both  seek  Jesus ;  they  seek 
him  that  they  may  find  the  Highest.    Facts  like 


PERSONALITY  AND   THE  TRUTH         65 

these  lead  us  to  a  deeper  knowledge  of  man. 
They  compel  us  to  believe  that  our  race  in  its 
error  and  sorrow  is  in  movement  upon  great 
ends,  that  it  is,  oftenest  indeed  by  the  path  of 
tragic  mistake,  in  quest  of  God.  We  cannot 
deny  this  when  before  our  eyes,  out  of  the  mire 
of  a  vulgar  and  vicious  life  there  bursts  the 
fountain  of  clear  aspiration.  "  My  soul  is  athirst 
for  God."  That  is  the  habitual  language  of  the 
saint ;  in  supreme  moments,  that  is  the  lan- 
guage of  the  depraved  heart.  Augustine,  when 
he  had  won  his  freedom,  did  little  more  than 
repeat  with  new  emphasis  and  with  happier  feel- 
ings the  great  discovery  made  in  his  bondage  : 
"  Thou  hast  made  us  for  thyself,  and  we  can- 
not rest  until  we  rest  in  Thee." 

Something  of  the  same  kind  of  surprise  is 
felt  when  we  hear  the  ageless  questions  of  phi- 
losophy upon  the  lips  of  children  and  youth, 
when  we  hear  them  in  the  words  of  men  of  the 
world.  And  this  surprise  is  keenest  when,  as 
in  the  case  of  Pilate,  the  profoundest  demand 
issues  from  a  mind  wanting  in  seriousness,  in 
nobility,  and  in  depth.  It  is  the  image  of  the 
sun  that  gives  to  the  dewdrop  its  lustre ;  it  is  the 
seriousness  of  human  existence  that  gives  dignity 
to  Pilate.  Even  unworthy  men  stand  to  their 
race  as  the  aeolian  harp  to  the  wind.  The  poor 
crude  nature,  in  moments  of   high    visitation, 


66  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

gives  utterance  to  the  still  sad  music  of  human- 
ity. Was  not  Saul  among  the  prophets,  and 
Balaam  ?  A  crisis  in  the  history  of  a  worthless 
character  lifts  it  into  an  interpreter  of  univer- 
sal human  need.  The  crisis  in  Pilate's  life 
makes  him  for  one  moment  the  representative 
of  man. 

We  are  not  unfamiliar  with  the  idea  that  truth 
and  goodness  belong  together.  That  gospel  was 
preached  by  a  Greek  philosopher  four  centuries 
before  our  era  began.  That  great  soul  con- 
tended that  no  one  sins  with  his  will.  He  held 
that  the  fountain  of  evil  is  tragic  mistake,  that 
men  do  wrong  because  they  are  ignorant.  He 
declared  that  if  they  only  knew  the  things 
that  pertain  to  their  peace,  they  would  love 
righteousness  and  pursue  it.  And  we  have  come 
to  look  upon  this  contention  of  the  ancient  seer 
as  one  of  the  great  commonplaces  of  the  spirit- 
ual life.  Truth  as  wisdom  and  wisdom  as  truth 
are  found  nowhere  except  in  the  ways  of  honor ; 
in  the  paths  of  shame  we  meet  only  endless  and 
hopeless  error.  So  preach  both  the  ancient 
Greek  and  the  ancient  Hebrew  seer. 

But  in  the  words  of  Jesus,  which  I  have  taken 
as  my  text,  there  is  something  more  than  this. 
Jesus  says :  "  I  am  the  truth."  What  does  he 
mean  ?  What  is  truth  ?  In  considering  this 
question,  let  us  move  toward  the  sublime  answer 


PEBSONALITY  AND   THE  TRUTH         67 

of  Jesus  through  forms  of  expression  with  which 
we  are  familiar. 

1.  We  sometimes  speak  of  truth  as  agree- 
ment of  word  with  fact.  We  say  that  the  tide 
is  at  the  flood,  that  the  day  is  at  the  morn,  that 
the  year  is  at  the  spring.  Each  of  these  state- 
ments is  susceptible  of  comparison  with  fact.  If 
what  is  said  agrees  with  what  is,  there  is  the 
truth. 

Let  us  suppose  that  we  are  the  witnesses  of 
certain  occurrences.  A  horse  runs  away  on  the 
Speedway  and  no  harm  is  done ;  a  lion  breaks 
out  from  the  menagerie,  leaps  over  a  fence  into 
a  playground  full  of  children  and  nurses,  and 
no  one  is  frightened ;  a  great  building  twenty 
stories  high  is  on  fire,  all  the  occupants  get  out 
in  safety,  and  although  the  entire  building  is 
destroyed,  the  contents  of  it  are  saved  ;  a  pleasure 
yacht  sails  down  Niagara  River  and  over  the  Falls 
with  no  other  discomfort  than  the  sense  of  a  rather 
heavy  jolt  in  making  the  leap  of  the  cataract ;  the 
politicians  of  all  parties  meet  and  declare  their 
enmity  with  one  another  upon  every  point  of 
public  policy,  in  terms  of  universal  benevolence  ; 
these  politicians  further  declare  that  the  doctrine 
that  to  the  victors  belong  the  spoils  is  in  har- 
mony with  the  severest  civil  service  reform. 
These  are  the  reports ;  they  may  or  they  may 
not  be  easy  of  belief.    If,  however,  they  corre- 


68  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

spond  with  the  facts,  they  are  true ;  if  they  do 
not  correspond  with  the  facts,  they  are  not  true. 

Here  truth  means  accuracy,  and  the  great  les- 
son is  plain.  An  inaccurate  mind  is  a  danger- 
ous possession,  and  may  easily  enough  become  a 
calamity.  It  is  true  that  the  absurdly  inaccurate 
mind  has  for  mankind  an  unfailing  charm,  and 
it  is  turned  by  the  miraculous  touch  of  hvimor 
into  a  servant  of  life.  Of  a  host  of  inaccura- 
cies and  exaggerations  it  may  be  said  that  they 
are  simply  ludicrous  ;  they  are  nourishment  for 
laughter.  Their  name  is  legion,  and  yet  they 
may  be  recalled  by  the  famous  report  concerning 
a  prisoner  who  was  sentenced  to  four  months  in 
the  "  House  of  Commons." 

The  thing  to  be  dreaded  is  the  habit  of  inac- 
curacy in  serious  affairs.  When  the  fact  is  the 
signal  to  stop  to  the  engineer  of  an  express,  the 
identification  of  a  coast  light  or  headland  by  the 
master  of  a  ship,  the  exact  reading  of  a  physi- 
cian's prescription  by  a  chemist,  the  discernment 
of  the  path  of  the  knife  in  the  case  of  the  sur- 
geon, we  see  at  once  the  indispensableness  of 
accuracy.  When  we  think  of  the  banking  trans- 
actions of  the  country  and  regard  them  as  an 
instance  in  illustration  of  the  world  of  trade,  we 
again  see  the  essentialness  of  accuracy.  When 
we  visit  our  public  schools  and  consider  the 
subjects   taught  and   the  methods  of  teaching 


PERSONALITY  AND    THE  TRUTH         69 

employed,  we  can  think  of  no  higher  human 
necessity  than  the  habit  of  an  exact  mind. 

Think  what  the  habit  of  mental  exactness 
would  do  for  knowledge  ;  how  it  would  dissolve 
the  vast  compound  of  fact  and  fancy,  truth  and 
superstition,  that  in  every  department  of  himian 
interest  goes  forth  under  the  august  name  of 
knowledge ;  how  this  habit  of  exactness  would 
generate  in  human  beings  the  love  of  science. 
Science  means  exact  observation,  and  exact  judg- 
ment upon  the  things  observed.  Think  how  this 
habit  would  aid  the  process  of  civil  justice.  Few 
witnesses  mean  to  lie;  vast  numbers  of  them  are 
incompetent.  Think  how  this  habit  would  put 
an  end  to  gossip.  The  accurate  mind  will  refuse 
to  repeat  as  fact  what  it  knows  to  be  only  rumor, 
and  it  will  refuse  to  aid  in  that  circulation  of 
rumor  by  which  the  mere  guess  of  the  gossip 
attains  to  baleful  certainty.  On  his  death-bed, 
John  C.  Calhoun  said  of  Daniel  Webster,  his 
great  antagonist  in  constitutional  law :  "  Show 
him  a  fact  in  the  path  of  his  argument,  and  Mr. 
Webster  is  dumb."  There  could  not  be  a  higher 
witness  to  intellectual  integrity.  The  fine  thing 
about  the  guest  who  appeared  without  the  wed- 
ding garment  was  that  when  confronted  by  the 
fact,  he  was  speechless. 

How  much  damage  to  human  feeling  may  come 
from  the  inaccuracy  of  man  may  be  readily  im- 


70  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

agined.  "  There  came  a  messenger  unto  Job,  and 
said,  The  oxen  were  plowing,  and  the  asses  feed- 
ing beside  them :  and  the  Sabeans  fell  upon  them, 
and  took  them  away ;  yea,  they  have  slain  the 
servants  with  the  edge  of  the  sword  ;  and  I  only 
am  escaped  alone  to  teU  thee.  While  he  was 
yet  speaking,  there  came  also  another,  and  said, 
The  fire  of  God  is  fallen  from  heaven,  and  hath 
burned  up  the  sheep,  and  the  servants,  and  con- 
sumed them  ;  and  I  only  am  escaped  alone  to  tell 
thee.  While  he  was  yet  speaking,  there  came  also 
another,  and  said,  Thy  sons  and  thy  daughters 
were  eating  and  drinking  wine  in  their  eldest 
brother's  house  :  and,  behold,  there  came  a  great 
wind  from  the  wilderness,  and  smote  the  four 
corners  of  the  house,  and  it  fell  upon  the  young 
men,  and  they  are  dead ;  and  I  only  am  escaped 
alone  to  tell  thee."  Now  suppose  these  three  mes- 
sengers mistaken  I  They  have  caused  by  their 
blunder  needless  and  nameless  pain.  Worlds  of 
needless  and  nameless  pain  are  rolled  every  day 
upon  poor  suffering  mortals  by  the  wretched  in- 
accuracies and  exaggerations  of  men  and  women. 
Our  Gospel  is  a  report ;  is  it  an  essentially  ac- 
curate report  ?  That  question  has  roused  and  in- 
flamed the  intelligence  of  the  world.  In  this  day 
of  universal  and  unsparing  criticism,  nothing 
that  is  inexact  can  stand.  The  modern  world  has 
set  its  heart  upon  accuracy.    It  is  subjecting  to 


PERSONALITY  AND   THE  TRUTH         71 

the  severest  tests  the  inherited  intellectual  pos- 
sessions of  mankind  ;  it  is  subjecting  religions 
and  the  records  of  religions  to  the  severest  exam- 
ination ;  it  is  subjecting  Christianity  and  the  re- 
cords of  Christianity  to  the  severest  critical  pro- 
cess. The  modern  world  has  come  to  believe  with 
Socrates  that  the  unexamined  life  is  not  worth 
living.  It  is  therefore  of  infinite  moment  that 
the  records  of  Christianity  shall  prove  essentially 
accurate.  It  is  the  belief  of  those  who  know 
most  on  this  point  that  the  Christian  record  is 
substantially  sound  ;  the  reporters  of  Jesus  were 
essentially  accurate  men;  what  they  said  abides 
after  all  the  waves  and  billows  of  criticism  have 
gone  over  it,  because  it  is  at  heart  a  record 
of  fact.  There  could  not  be  a  more  impressive 
example  of  the  peril  of  inaccuracy,  or  of  the 
exceeding  felicity  of  an  accurate  mind.  In  the 
light  of  it  we  can  approve  the  sentence  passed 
upon  the  London  publisher  who  issued  the 
Bible  with  the  negatives  left  out  in  the  Ten 
Commandments.  His  work  was  destroyed  and 
he  was  sent  to  the  Tower,  not  only  for  sacrilege, 
but  also  for  inaccuracy. 

2.  We  sometimes  speak  of  the  truth  as  agree- 
ment of  statement  and  thought.  The  comparison 
here  is  between  what  a  man  puts  into  words  and 
what  he  holds  in  his  heart.  We  recall  here  the 
exclamation  of  the  Homeric  hero :  "  I  hate  as 


72  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

the  gates  of  hell  the  man  who  says  one  thing 
with  his  lips  and  conceals  another  in  his  heart." 
That  is  to  the  Homeric  hero  the  ideal  of  an 
untrue  man ;  one  whose  words  are  in  dead  antago- 
nism to  the  thoughts  and  intents  of  his  heart. 
We  recall  the  Old  Testament  story  of  the  treach- 
ery of  Joab  to  Amasa :  "  And  Joab  said  to 
Amasa,  Is  it  well  with  thee,  my  brother?  And 
Joab  took  Amasa  by  the  beard  with  his  right 
hand  to  kiss  him.  But  Amasa  took  no  heed  to 
the  sword  that  was  in  Joab's  hand."  Under 
the  pretense  of  the  most  loyal  friendship,  Joab 
killed  this  man.  The  outward  act  was  the  act  of 
a  friend ;  the  inward  thought  was  the  thought 
of  an  assassin.  Judas  comes  to  the  Garden  of 
Gethsemane  to  betray  Jesus.  He  has  given  a 
sign  to  the  enemies  of  Jesus,  who  are  not  famil- 
iar with  his  personal  appearance ;  the  man  whom 
Judas  shall  kiss  they  are  to  apprehend,  that 
man  is  their  prisoner.  Judas  kept  his  promise, 
and  as  he  advanced,  Jesus  recoiled  from  him 
with  horror :  "  Judas,  betrayest  thou  the  Son 
of  Man  with  a  kiss  ? "  Dost  thou  employ  the 
symbol  of  love  as  the  cover  for  treason  ?  Thou 
appearest  in  conduct  as  my  devoted  friend  ;  in 
thought,  in  feeling,  in  premeditated  deed,  thou 
art  my  betrayer.  And  in  all  history  there  is 
nothing  more  odious  than  that.  Here  is  lying 
reduced    to   a   fine   art ;    falsehood   taking   the 


PERSONALITY  AND   THE  TRUTH         78 

utmost  pains  to  conceal  its  hideous  features ; 
treachery  stealing  the  livery  of  heaven.  This 
awful  contradiction,  this  black  and  hideous  anti- 
thesis between  the  act  and  the  mind  of  Judas, 
stands  as  the  monumental  lie  of  human  history. 
Under  it  are  gathered  the  unspeakable  infideli- 
ties of  domestic  life,  the  glaring  dishonesties  of 
trade,  the  vile  hypocrisies  of  social  fellowship, 
the  nameless  corruptions  that  pollute  the  great 
word  "  patriotism,"  and  the  historic  interna- 
tional treacheries  against  an  afflicted  humanity. 
We  say  of  a  poem,  of  a  speech,  of  a  philo- 
sophy, that  it  is  true  when  it  answers  to  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  poet,  the  orator, 
the  philosopher.  Tennyson's  "In  Memoriam" 
is  true  because  it  is  the  genuine  utterance  of 
genuine  feeling.  Milton's  "  Samson  Agonistes  " 
is  true  because  it  is ,  a  faithful  expression  of 
Milton's  mood  at  the  time.  Dante's  "  Divine 
Comedy  "  is  true  because  he  put  his  sincerest 
beliefs  and  convictions  into  this  poem.  Demos- 
thenes, when  he  spoke  against  Philip,  Burke, 
when  he  pleaded  for  conciliation  with  America, 
and  Webster,  when  he  expounded  the  Constitu- 
tion, spoke  the  truth  ;  that  is,  they  spoke  their 
sincerest  thoughts  and  beliefs.  Hume  and  Kant 
are  true  philosophers  because  they  both  put  in 
order  their  profoundest  and  most  serious  con- 
clusions; there  is  no  contradiction,  no  discord. 


74  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

between  the  thought  in  mind  and  the  thought 
in  the  book. 

Here  the  great  lesson  is  sincerity,  and  in  sin- 
cerity we  touch  another  of  the  fountains  of  a  true 
humanity.  Indeed,  without  sincerity,  great  char- 
acter is  impossible.  What  are  all  our  orthodox- 
ies, if  they  do  not  represent  the  mind  of  the 
Church  to-day  ?  They  are  a  vast  construction  of 
falsehood.  What  are  all  the  great  historic  forms 
of  faith  in  dogma,  in  hymn,  in  sacred  oracle,  in 
philosophic  system,  in  the  free  utterance  of  liter- 
ature, if  the  spirit  of  to-day  is  not  in  accord  with 
them  ?  David  found  that  Saul's  armor  did  not  fit 
him,  and  therefore  he  refused  to  wear  it.  He 
went  forth  against  the  great  enemy  of  Israel  with 
the  sling  of  the  shepherd  and  the  five  smooth 
stones  from  the  brook.  It  is  of  infinite  moment 
that  we  should  fight  for  the  highest  in  this  way. 
The  first  of  all  questions  concerns  what  one  holds 
in  his  heart  as  the  truth.  He  must  stand  by 
that  and  by  nothing  else.  It  may  be  but  a  beam 
in  the  darkness  ;  if  he  is  true  to  it,  it  will  grow. 

Men  conceal  their  real  thought  for  many  rea- 
sons. They  conceal  their  real  thought  because 
the  free  expression  of  it  may  injure  their  pros- 
pects ;  or  because  it  may  give  offense  to  friends ; 
or  because  of  personal  weakness.  These  and  all 
other  reasons  for  the  suppression  of  individual 
judgments  are  unworthy.    The  thoughts  and  in- 


PERSONALITY  AND   THE  TRUTH         75 

tents  of  the  heart  are  suppressed  oftenest  on 
account  of  weakness  and  dishonesty.  The  classic 
instance  of  suppression  of  judgment  through 
weakness  is  Shakespeare's :  — 

"  H.  Do  you  see  yonder  cloud  that 's  almost  in  shape 
of  a  camel  ? 

P.  By  the  mass,  and  't  is  like  a  camel,  indeed. 
H.  Methinks  it  is  like  a  weasel. 
P.  It  is  backed  like  a  weasel. 
H.  Or  like  a  whale  ? 
P.  Very  like  a  whale." 

An  example  of  the  suppression  of  real  opin- 
ion likely  to  become  classic  is  found  in  Kipling's 
"  The  Truce  of  the  Bear."  On  the  one  hand  we 
have  a  Hague  Convention  for  peace,  and  on  the 
other  an  imperial  policy  of  national  aggrandize- 
ment supported  by  armed  force.  The  hunter 
comes  upon  the  bear :  — 

"  There  was  a  charge  in  the  musket  —  pricked  and  primed 

was  the  pan  — 
My  finger  crooked  on  the  trigger  —  when  he  reared  up 

like  a  man. 

And  my  heart  was  touched  with  pity  for  the  monstrous, 

pleading  thing. 
Touched  with  pity  and  wonder,  I  did  not  fire  then.  .  .  . 
I  have  looked  no  more  on  women  —  I  have  walked  no 

more  with  men. 
Nearer  he  tottered  and  nearer,  with  paws  like  hands 

that  pray  — 
From  brow  to  jaw  the  steel-shod  paw,  it  ripped  my  face 

away ! 


76  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

Sudden,  silent,  and  savage,  searing  as  flame  the  blow  — 

Faceless  I  fell  before  his  feet,  fifty  summers  ago. 

I  heard  him  grunt  and  chuckle  —  I  heard  him  pass  to  his 

den. 
He  left  me  blind  to  the  darkened  years  and  the  little 

mercy  of  men." 

3.  We  sometimes  remark  that  truth  is  the 
agreement  of  thought  and  fact.  The  mind  of 
Copernicus  is  dominated  by  a  certain  image  of 
the  solar  system.  In  the  mind  of  this  great  man 
the  sun  is  at  the  centre  of  the  system,  and  the 
earth  and  its  sister  planets  move  in  separate 
orbits  and  in  nearer  or  remoter  circles  round  the 
sun.  This  is  the  picture  in  the  brain  of  Coper- 
nicus, and  we  believe  that  it  answers  to  the  solar 
fact.  The  mind  of  Darwin  is  controlled  by  the 
idea  of  the  development  from  one  kind  of  life 
of  all  the  manifold  varieties  of  existence  now  on 
this  earth.  The  image  is  of  an  inverted  pyra- 
mid, self -generating,  self -building,  spreading  as 
it  rises  into  the  vast  contrast  which  the  base  of 
this  mighty  inverted  pyramid  presents  to  its  apex. 
This  is  the  thought  in  the  mind  of  Darwin,  and 
many  believe  that  it  answers  substantially  to  the 
biological  fact.  There  is  the  history  of  Rome 
for  fifteen  hundred  years,  and  there  is  Gibbon's 
mental  picture  of  that  history  which  he  trans- 
fers to  his  book ;  there  is  the  Republic  of  Plato 
and  the  moral  and  social  constitution  of  man ; 
there  is  the  total  moral  order  of  the  universe  and 


PERSONALITY  AND   THE  TRUTH         77 

the  mind  of  Christ.  Where  the  mental  picture 
and  the  natural  fact,  the  human  insight  and  the 
moral  order,  the  state  of  the  mind  and  the  state 
of  the  case,  the  interior  world  of  thought  and 
the  exterior  world  of  nature,  agree,  there  we  say 
is  the  truth.  When  you  read  the  parables  of 
the  Lost  Sheep,  the  Lost  Coin,  and  the  Lost 
Son,  when  you  see  how  the  owner  in  each  case 
seeks  his  own  and  will  not  cease  to  seek  it  until 
he  find  it,  and  then  learn  that  this  is  the 
feeling  of  Jesus  toward  erring  humanity,  you 
are  ready  for  the  question.  Is  this  the  way  that 
God  feels  and  acts  toward  men  ?  If  this  is  the 
case,  the  parable  is  true ;  it  is  an  image  in  essen- 
tial agreement  with  the  mind  and  heart  of  God. 
When  you  read  further  our  Lord's  parable  of 
Dives  and  Lazarus,  when  you  see  the  noble  beg- 
gar after  death  in  bliss  and  the  royal  rascal  in 
torment ;  when  you  ask  if  this  represents  the 
division  of  the  good  and  the  bad  into  separate 
worlds  at  death,  into  heaven  and  hell,  you  are 
ready  for  the  question,  Is  this  parable  in  essen- 
tial accord  with  the  fact?  If  things  there  an- 
swer to  this  picture,  then  the  parable  is  true. 
So  we  may  reason  of  all  perceptions,  memories, 
imaginations,  judgments,  beliefs,  and  hopes ;  if 
they  agree  with  the  independent  order  beyond 
them,  they  are  true,  if  they  do  not  agree  with 
that  order,  they  are  false. 


78  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

Here  truth  means  reality,  independent  of  the 
will  of  man.  Sincerity  is  essential,  but  it  is  not 
enough.  There  is  an  order  of  nature  indepen- 
dent of  human  volition.  Man  can  observe  times 
and  seasons,  days  and  years ;  but  he  cannot  con- 
trol them.  The  world  of  science  is  infinitely 
fruitfid  because  it  is  the  perception  of  the  world 
of  nature ;  the  teaching  of  Jesus  is  infinitely 
fruitful  because  it  is  the  revelation  of  the  moral 
world  of  man.  One's  thoughts,  fancies,  feelings, 
volitions,  may  be  sincere ;  the  whole  state  of 
one's  mind  and  the  entire  intent  and  content 
of  one's  heart  may  be  without  guile,  but  this  will 
not  save  one,  if  one  is  not  in  accord  with  the 
order  of  the  world.  The  law  of  gravitation  is 
independent  of  man ;  it  exists,  it  operates,  it 
rewards  life  and  destroys  life,  whether  perceived 
or  unperceived,  acknowledged  or  unacknow- 
ledged. The  somnambulist  who  walks  out  of  his 
window  on  the  fourth  story  of  his  house  meets 
the  same  fate  with  the  deliberate  suicide.  Cya- 
nide of  potassium  will  kill  the  man  who  takes  it 
by  mistake  as  quickly  as  the  man  who  takes  it 
knowing  what  it  is.  There  is  a  physical  order 
that  we  do  not  make,  and  that  we  cannot  un- 
make. 

Parallel  to  this  is  the  independent  moral  order. 
There  is  the  cosmic  nature  and  its  law  of  gravi- 
tation that  must  be  honored  :  there  is  the  human 


PERSONALITY  AND   THE  TRUTH         79 

nature  and  its  moral  law  that  must  be  honored. 
It  is  there  by  the  decree  of  the  Highest,  and 
no  weapon  formed  against  it  can  prosper.  The 
Lord's  parable  of  the  Two  Builders  touches  life 
here.  The  foolish  builder  was  as  sincere  as  the 
wise  buUder ;  he,  too,  wanted  life,  home,  a  safe 
dwelling,  for  the  rich  content  of  existence.  He 
built  sincerely,  but  he  did  not  build  in  accord- 
ance with  the  moral  order.  He  forgot  that  he 
lived  in  a  searching  universe ;  he  forgot  that  a 
covenant  with  the  everlasting  alone  can  save 
man.  He  made  no  provision  against  the  rains 
that  descended,  the  floods  that  came,  and  the 
winds  that  blew.  His  house  fell,  not  because  it 
was  insincerely,  but  because  it  was  foolishly 
built ;  not  because  it  was  an  evil  device,  but 
because  it  was  not  founded  on  reality. 

Carlyle  speaks  of  "  a  soul  too  much  based 
upon  laughter."  We  cannot  too  often  remind 
ourselves  that  we  live  in  a  imiverse  of  the  ut- 
most seriousness  ;  that  law  in  the  realm  of  na- 
ture and  in  the  sphere  of  the  spirit  is  ultimate 
and  implacable ;  that  good  intentions  cannot 
bring  immunity  from  disaster,  that,  indeed,  as 
the  great  poet  saw,  hell  is  paved  with  them  ;  that 
only  the  reverent  and  devout  recognition  of  the 
independent  and  inviolable  order  of  God  without 
and  within  can  give  to  a  man  a  fruitful,  progres- 
sive and  secure  existence. 


80  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

4.  We  sometimes  speak  of  the  truth  under  the 
form  of  personality.  We  speak  of  the  true  father, 
the  true  mother,  the  true  friend,  the  true  man. 
What  do  we  mean  ?  We  mean  that  a  given  per- 
son stands  in  a  definite  number  of  relations  to 
his  fellow  men,  and  that  in  these  relations  he  is 
invariably  all  that  he  should  be,  or  he  is  in 
them  in  a  very  eminent  degree  what  he  should 
be.  We  look  at  an  American  like  Abraham 
Lincoln,  we  mark  him  as  son,  father,  friend,  as 
lawyer,  statesman.  President,  and  we  can  say 
from  the  heart  that  in  all  these  relations  he  is 
in  an  extraordinary  degree  what  he  should  be ; 
he  is  a  true  man. 

This  is  the  meaning  of  Jesus  in  the  text.  The 
truth  is  not  a  system  of  opinion ;  it  is  a  system  of 
relations,  and  a  man  in  them  all  that  he  should 
be.  Jesus  is  son,  brother,  teacher,  friend,  citizen 
of  Israel,  servant  of  his  people,  prophet  of  God. 
This  is  the  circle  of  relations  in  which  he  lives  ; 
in  them  all  he  is  all  that  he  should  be.  He  is  the 
perfect  man,  and  therefore  he  is  the  final  form  of 
the  truth. 

Look  now  at  some  of  the  implications  of  this 
view  of  truth.  According  to  this  conception  of 
truth,  the  sovereign  force  in  the  world  is  the  per- 
sonal soul ;  man  is  the  ultimate  reality  in  time. 
Color  is  but  his  vision  ;  sound  is  but  his  sensa- 
tion ;  taste  and  smell  are  but  his  experiences ; 


PERSONALITY  AND   THE  TRUTH         81 

the  world  upon  which  he  builds  and  works  and 
walks  is  but  some  Sovereign  Will  answering  to 
his  own.  In  the  heart  of  this  Will  he  lives ; 
within  that  Will  all  men  and  all  things  live.  Yet 
in  that  Will  the  central  reality  known  to  us  is 
the  human  soul.  The  world  as  vision,  sound, 
taste,  smell,  touch,  is  carried  on  by  the  perennial 
race ;  otherwise  it  would  vanish  when  the  soul 
vanishes  at  death,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a 
vision.  The  world  as  we  know  it  is  kept  in  being 
by  man ;  and  what  in  it  is  more  than  man  is  but 
the  Sovereign  Will  that  answers  to  man's  will. 

The  soul  that  perceives,  that  remembers,  that 
weaves  its  thoughts  into  strange  devices,  that  rea- 
sons, that  finds  in  itself  the  moral  ideal,  that  is 
bound  by  that  ideal  to  service  and  love,  is  the 
sovereign  reality  in  this  world  of  shadows.  The 
capacity  for  discovering  an  ideal,  for  lifting  it 
higher  and  ever  higher,  is  among  the  great  things 
in  the  human  spirit.  The  incapacity  for  evading 
the  sense  of  obligation  when  standing  in  any  re- 
lation under  the  full  light  of  the  ideal,  is  among 
the  greater  things  of  the  soul.  The  power  by 
which  the  heavenly  vision  is  entertained,  pursued, 
overtaken,  and  put  into  the  obedient  will,  the 
thankful  heart,  the  well-ordered  and  beneficent 
life,  is  the  greatest  thing  in  man,  and  it  is  the 
greatest  thing  that  we  know.  When  we  hear  the 
Hebrew  servant  cry,  How  can  I  do  this  great  sin 


82  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

against  God?  we  see  youth  possessed  of  amoral 
ideal,  and  we  see  that  ideal  sovereign  in  the  wiU 
and  conduct  of  its  possessor.  When  we  hear 
from  the  lips  of  the  Christian  apostle  :  "  This 
one  thing  I  do,  forgetting  the  things  that  are 
behind,  and  stretching  forward  unto  the  things 
that  are  before,  I  press  on  toward  the  prize  of 
the  high  calling  in  Christ,"  we  see  a  soul  pursu- 
ing a  flying  ideal  as  an  eagle  might  fly  in  the 
fiery  path  of  the  retreating  sun.  The  man  is  in 
movement  through  love  and  service  offered  to 
an  infinite  ideal. 

If  we  turn  and  look  at  the  souls  that  have 
failed  in  obedience,  at  Judas  in  his  remorse,  at 
Peter  in  his  tears,  at  Pilate  washing  his  hands, 
at  Kichard  Third  alone  in  his  tent  the  night  be- 
fore the  battle,  at  Lady  Macbeth  and  the  spots 
upon  her  hands,  at  the  volcanic  woe  of  the  con- 
science face  to  face  with  its  own  shame,  we  learn 
again  how  profound,  how  abysmal,  is  the  reality 
of  the  moral  nature  of  man. 

'*  Which  way  I  fly  is  hell ;  myself  am  hell ; 
And,  in  the  lowest  deep,  a  lower  deep, 
Still  threatening  to  devour  me,  opens  wide, 
To  which  the  hell  I  suffer  seems  a  heaven." 

If  we  look  at  man  in  his  sense  of  moral  need, 
we  see  again  how  trivial  all  other  things  are  com- 
pared with  the  reality  of  the  soul.  Look  over  the 
world,  look  into  the  hearts  of  suffering  men  and 


PERSONALITY  AND   THE  TRUTH         83 

women,  look  into  the  conscience  crazed  with  the 
sense  of  unworthiness  and  shame,  and  listen  to 
the  great  modern  interpreter  of  a  moral  human- 
ity as  he  puts  into  words  the  terrible,  inarticulate 
moan :  — 

"  Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a  mind  diseased, 
Pluck  from  the  memory  a  rooted  sorrow, 
Kaze  out  the  written  troubles  of  the  brain 
And  with  some  sweet  oblivious  antidote 
Cleanse  the  stuffed  bosom  of  that  perilous  stuff 
Which  weighs  upon  the  heart?  " 

If  to  himself  each  man  is  the  centre  of  all 
reality,  next  to  this  is  the  reality  of  his  fellow 
men.  We  live  in  personal  relations.  We  are 
souls,  thinking,  feeling,  and  acting  one  with  an- 
other. We  are  moral  realities,  conscious  spirit- 
ual forces,  either  at  war  with  one  another  or  at 
peace.  Next  to  himself,  man  is  to  his  brother 
the  sovereign  reality  in  the  world.  If  he  thinks 
honorably  of  his  brother,  if  he  feels  kindly 
toward  him,  if  he  deals  justly  by  him,  his 
brother's  soul  comes  to  his  with  messages  of  joy 
and  peace.  See  how  these  souls  come  to  Jesus. 
They  come  out  of  the  past.  Moses  and  Elijah 
on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration  are  symbols  of 
the  grateful  dead  that  flock  to  Jesus  to  bless 
him.  The  sad,  defeated,  broken-hearted  past  be- 
comes victorious  and  glad  in  him.  They  rise  at 
his  side ;  the  souls  of  little  children,  of  weary 


84  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

mothers,  of  publicans  and  sinners,  of  broken 
households  that  he  has  restored,  all  pour  upon 
him  their  reverence  and  their  gratitude.  They 
come  to  his  prophetic  soul  from  the  vast  future. 
Millions  of  unborn  spirits  fly  like  doves  to  their 
windows,  to  empty  into  his  the  sacred  thankful- 
ness of  their  lives.  Thus,  in  his  measure,  the 
true  man  always  fares.  He  is  alone  and  yet  not 
alone ;  he  reveres  and  serves  the  souls  of  men. 
The  souls  of  men  in  one  way  or  another  testify 
to  him  who  serves  them  their  august  reality. 
They  testify  by  their  gratitude  and  their  most 
sacred  trust.  And  if  a  man  deals  unjustly  by 
man,  how  terrible  the  curse  !  Robespierre's  way 
to  the  guillotine  is  accompanied  by  the  terrific 
imprecation  :  "  Go  down  to  hell  with  the  curses 
of  all  wives  and  mothers."  That  cry  of  wild 
justice  is  a  symbol  of  the  scourging  reality  that 
man's  brother  becomes  to  him  when  he  has  out- 
raged his  brother's  humanity.  His  punishment 
is  harder  than  he  can  bear ;  the  blood  of  the  slain 
soul  cried  to  the  Infinite  out  of  the  ground. 
Both  in  benediction  and  in  malediction  we  learn 
that  we  are  persons  in  a  vast  moral  fellowship, 
and  that  souls  in  moral  fellowship  are  the  ulti- 
mate reality  of  our  world. 

We  deal  with  our  fellow  men,  and  we  deal 
with  the  Infinite.  When  we  are  at  the  height  of 
moral  being  we  whisper  in  profound  est  awe  :  — 


PERSONALITY  AND   THE  TRUTH         85 

"  Whither  shall  I  go  from  thy  spirit  ? 
Or  whither  shall  I  flee  from  thy  presence  ? 
If  I  ascend  up  into  heaven,  thou  art  there  : 
If  I  make  my  bed  in  Sheol,  behold,  thou  art  there. 
If  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning. 
And  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea  ; 
Even  there  shall  thy  hand  lead  me. 
And  thy  right  hand  shall  hold  me." 

The  Eternal  is  intelligible  only  as  an  "  I,"  a 
personal  Soul,  a  Being  who  entertains  an  infi- 
nite moral  ideal,  who  has  for  it  an  infinite  love, 
and  who  gives  to  it  in  his  character  an  infinite 
fulfillment.  Further,  when  we  are  at  our  best, 
the  great  realities  of  the  universe  are  not  atoms, 
nor  elements,  nor  the  combinations  of  atoms  and 
elements  that  form  things  and  stars  and  constel- 
lations, nor  the  vast  aggregate  of  these  that 
constitute  the  material  universe  as  it  lives  in  the 
vision  and  science  of  man;  when  we  are  at  our 
best,  the  supreme  realities  are  souls  in  fellowship 
for  better  and  for  worse,  through  weal  and 
through  woe,  and  in  fellowship  with  the  Eter- 
nal Soul  that  we  call  God.  When  we  think 
clearly  and  at  our  best,  the  permanent  core  of 
the  universe  discloses  itseK  as  a  fellowship  of 
persons  in  the  order  of  conscience  and  love,  in 
the  pervading  presence  and  the  comprehending 
being  of  the  Eternal  conscience  and  love. 

Jesus  therefore  spoke  honestly  and  profoundly 
when  he  said,  "  I  am  the  truth."    Truth  as  ac- 


86  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

curacy  lived  in  him ;  never  man  so  ordered 
his  words  to  the  facts  of  existence.  Truth  as 
sincerity  lived  in  him ;  never  man  so  moulded 
speech  into  the  image  of  his  thought.  Truth  as 
independent  reality  he  confessed ;  never  man  so 
recognized  beyond  him,  about  him,  and  above 
him  the  will  of  God.  All  these  forms  of  truth 
were  lifted  into  the  ultimate  and  supreme  form, 
—  the  personal  soul.  He  stood  to  men  in  man- 
ifold relations,  and  in  them  all  he  stood  just 
and  merciful.  He  stood  to  God  as  Son,  and  he 
stood  as  the  perfect  Son.  He  acknowledged  in 
the  comfort  of  those  who  returned  upon  him 
for  his  services  to  them  their  thankful  love  and 
trust,  and  in  the  blind  and  brutal  hatred  of 
those  who  filled  him  with  grief,  the  reality  of  the 
souls  of  his  brethren.  In  his  obedience  and  in 
his  victory  he  knew  and  declared  the  reality  of 
God.  In  his  transcendent  personal  soul  he  is  in 
time  the  truth  of  our  human  world,  he  is  in  time 
the  truth  of  the  universe.  Henceforth,  when  we 
use  the  great  word  "truth,"  we  shall  not  dwell 
among  things  or  words  or  thoughts ;  we  shall 
rise  to  the  sphere  of  character ;  we  shall  look 
upon  the  face  of  saint,  reformer,  martyr,  hero ; 
we  shall  apply  the  word  to  the  soul  that  has 
stood  in  human  relations  for  the  highest.  When 
we  use  the  sublime  phrase  "  the  truth,"  we  shall 
lift  our  vision  to  the  perfect  person,  to  the  soul 


PERSONALITY  AND   THE  TRUTH         87 

that  stood  toward  men  and  toward  God  in  ideal 
justice  and  love,  and  in  an  ideal  service  of  justice 
and  love ;  and  we  shall  look  up  through  this 
divine  personal  mediator  who  is  the  truth  of 
our  human  world  to  the  personal  God  who  is 
the  truth  of  the  universe. 


NATURE  AND  HUMANITY 

"  And  Jacob's  well  was  there." 

John  iv,  6. 

The  well  was  there,  a  fountain  from  the  heart 
of  the  earth,  clear,  abundant,  beautiful,  fit  to 
represent  nature  in  the  whole  range  of  its  bene- 
ficent ministry  to  life.  The  grand  total  of  forces 
other  than  human  that  we  call  nature  lifts  itself 
into  the  imagination  as  we  think  of  this  ancient 
well,  as  we  sit  beside  it  weary  with  the  journey 
of  existence  and  under  the  heat  and  burden  of 
the  day. 

This  well,  however,  is  not  isolated  and  inde- 
pendent. It  is  not  a  nameless  fountain.  It  is 
Jacob's  well.  It  was  dug  by  the  father  of  a 
nation.  The  water  is  still  held  in  the  place 
that  he  made  for  it.  It  has  an  association  with 
his  career,  ancient,  pathetic,  continuous,  endless. 
Rachel  in  her  beauty  visits  that  well.  The  sons 
of  Jacob,  in  youthful  gladness  and  manly  hope, 
gather  round  it  every  morning  and  evening.  The 
flocks  and  herds  come  near  it.  The  old  man,  in 
his  shame  and  in  his  love,  in  his  often  unwor- 
thy and  yet  always  strangely  fascinating  charac- 


NATURE  AND  HUMANITY  89 

ter,  has  stamped  his  humanity  upon  the  well 
that  bears  his  name.  Nature  comes  before  us  in 
that  well ;  humanity  comes  before  us  in  it.  Hu- 
manity rebuilds  the  well,  uses  it,  bequeaths  it, 
through  it  enters  into  covenant  with  nature,  and 
sets  in  the  heart  of  nature's  abiding  order  the 
fortunes  of  the  human  race. 

The  Ampezzo  valley  in  the  Austrian  Tyrol  is 
a  modern  picture  with  the  same  meaning.  En- 
circling the  valley  there  are  the  enduring  moun- 
tains. They  are  something  in  themselves.  They 
were  there  before  man  ;  they  are  primeval,  ever- 
lasting. They  surround  and  watch  over  the 
valley.  Among  their  high  places  the  clouds 
gather,  blacken,  and  almost  daily  break  in 
storms  that  drive  as  if  they  would  destroy  and 
desolate,  but  that  only  refresh  and  beautify  the 
world  upon  which  their  fury  is  spent.  Into  this 
frowning  and  terrible  order,  touched  with  high 
restraint,  is  set  man  and  his  world.  Nature  be- 
gins to  burn  with  humanity;  humanity  begins 
to  covenant  with  and  to  go  beyond  nature.  The 
green  fields  sweeping  up  the  valley  from  the 
river-banks  to  the  edges  of  the  eternal  rock, 
the  response  of  the  soil  to  the  skillful  and  labo- 
rious hand  of  man,  the  human  habitations  that 
tell  of  man's  triumph  over  heat  and  cold,  the  little 
village  that  speaks  of  the  power  of  social  fellow- 
ship, the  church  with  its  campanile  in  the  centre 


90  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

of  all  that  testifies  of  the  thirst  of  the  soul  after 
the  living  God,  —  all  repeat  the  same  wonderful 
story,  the  obligation  of  man  to  nature,  the  obli- 
gation of  nature  to  man,  and  his  complete  tran- 
scendence of  nature  in  the  range  of  his  powers, 
in  the  vastness  of  his  needs,  in  the  purpose  of 
his  being,  and  in  the  consciousness  of  his  union 
with  God.  In  that  valley,  as  in  many  another, 
we  see  the  humanizing  of  all  nature,  the  place  of 
man  in  nature's  stern  order,  and  the  sj^irit  that 
on  river  and  sea,  on  hill  and  plain,  is  forever  an 
alien,  creative,  prophetic,  alive  with  the  moral 
image  of  God,  and  living  up  into  his  eternal  life. 
I  am  to  speak,  therefore,  of  nature  and  humanity, 
at  a  few  of  their  thousand  points  of  intersection. 
1.  There  is  first  the  dependence  of  nature  upon 
man,  and  of  man  upon  nature.  Without  man, 
what  a  strange  ghost  nature  becomes  !  We  know 
that  colors,  sounds,  tastes,  and  smells  are  due  to 
human  sensibility.  We  further  know  that  hard- 
ness and  softness,  cold  and  heat,  moist  and  dry, 
owe  their  character  to  our  peculiar  human  organ- 
ization. When  you  strip  from  nature  all  that 
it  is  in  consequence  of  its  association  with  man, 
it  is  left  as  constant,  invisible,  sublime,  eternal 
order,  and  no  more.  This  is  the  boundless  un- 
sheeted  ghost,  the  infinite  sightless  and  impal- 
pable order  in  which  we  live.  When  we  take 
man  out  of  nature,  the  outgoings  of  the  morning 


NATURE  AND  HUMANITY  91 

and  the  evening  are  no  more ;  the  glorious  mir- 
acle of  color  is  gone;  the  sounds  that  are  the 
sphere  melodies,  the  tastes  that  are  zest  to  life, 
the  freshness  and  the  perfume  of  the  rich  earth, 
are  vanished.  We  have  left  as  nature,  when  man 
is  gone,  only  the  aboriginal,  formless,  viewless, 
eternal  power. 

On  the  other  hand,  man  apart  from  nature  is 
helpless.  He  cannot  breathe  except  in  nature's 
air ;  he  cannot  move  except  in  her  spaces ;  he 
cannot  subsist  except  on  the  food  that  she  brings 
him ;  he  cannot  appear  to  his  brethren  except 
in  a  body  that  has  been  built  up  out  of  her  deep, 
mysterious  stores.  Apart  from  nature  man  dies, 
passes  out  of  the  fair  world  of  time,  leaves  the 
smile  of  love  behind  him,  ceases  to  speak  to  his 
brethren  in  the  color  and  sound,  in  the  whole 
varied  and  wondrous  sensuous  appeal  of  his  kind, 
falls  out  of  the  ranks  of  visible  human  fellow- 
ship, withdraws  into  the  world  of  spirit,  fades 
into  the  eternal,  dwells  with  God,  and,  until  we 
join  him  there,  exists  only  for  God. 

Again,  nature  comes  to  her  best  through  man. 
The  well  is  nature  at  her  best  at  a  single  point. 
That  eminence  is  bestowed  by  man.  The  story 
of  the  Garden  of  Eden  is  another  illustration. 
Nature  is  improved  by  man's  hand,  improved 
in  range  and  excellence  of  life,  in  richness  and 
diversity  of  beauty.    By  the  hand  of  man  the 


92  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  are  made  to 
rejoice.  The  hillsides  of  Italy  and  Switzerland, 
and  the  valley  of  the  Nile,  tell  the  story  of  the 
whole  earth.  Man's  ideas  and  man's  toil  and 
man's  life  bring  nature  to  her  best.  The  wild 
rose  is  fair,  but  it  is  not  to  be  compared  for 
richness  and  beauty  with  the  same  flower  lifted 
to  perfection  by  man's  care.  So  with  fruits  of 
every  name.  The  landscape  architect  comes  into 
nature  with  man.  Even  the  ranges  of  nature 
untouched  by  man,  inaccessible  to  man,  are  yet 
lifted  into  greater  sublimity  because  they  are  in 
association  with  man,  because  they  are  part  of 
man's  world.    It  is  doubtless  true  that 

"  There  is  a  pleasure  in  the  pathless  woods, 
There  is  a  rapture  on  the  lonely  shore, 
There  is  society,  where  none  intrudes, 
By  the  deep  Sea,  and  music  in  its  roar." 

And  yet  the  singing  poet,  it  is  easy  to  see,  car- 
ries these  great  things  in  nature  to  their  best. 
He  gives  them  a  voice ;  he  supplies  them  with 
new  power;  he  lifts  them  into  an  ampler  and 
nobler  life. 

It  hardly  needs  to  be  said  that  man  rises  in 
civilization  through  his  insight  into  nature. 
Take  all  the  knowledge  of  nature  which  civilized 
man  possesses,  all  his  skill  in  using  nature's 
power,  all  the  discoveries  of  nature's  secret 
stores,  and  all  the  inventions  that  extend  human 


NATURE  AND  HUMANITY  93 

control  over  these  stores,  and  you  have  done 
much  to  explain  his  vast  advance  over  savage 
man.  This  is  so  true  that  the  man  who  first 
became  fully  aware  of  it  won  an  endless  fame. 
Bacon  is  simply  the  literary  prophet  of  physi- 
cal science.  His  distinction  is  in  his  vision,  and 
in  the  rich  magnificence  of  his  utterance.  His 
vision  is  narrow,  indeed,  compared  with  that  of 
the  great  ruling  thinkers  of  the  race.  In  extent 
and  in  value.  Bacon's  vision  is  immeasurably  in- 
ferior to  that  of  Plato  and  Aristotle,  upon  whom 
he  never  lost  an  excuse  to  pour  his  contempt. 
One  thing,  however,  Bacon  saw  with  surpassing 
clearness.  He  stood  with  his  eyes  turned  earth- 
ward. He  beheld  the  amazing  possible  service 
of  physical  things  to  the  human  race.  He  pro- 
phesied throughout  his  long  career  of  the  untold 
utility  for  man  in  the  heart  of  nature.  He  put 
himself,  his  vision,  his  prophecy,  and  his  pas- 
sion into  the  modern  mind.  The  consequence  is 
an  unparalleled  devotion  to  nature,  an  unparal- 
leled conquest  over  nature,  and  an  unparalleled 
advance  in  the  whole  existence  of  civilized 
man.  For  his  vision  of  this  promised  land,  for 
his  power  to  captivate  the  mind  of  man  with  his 
vision,  Bacon  has  won  his  renown.  Nothing 
could  more  clearly  attest  the  truth  of  the  remark 
that  conquest  over  nature  means  for  man  the 
power  of  civilization. 


94  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

2.  Tims  we  may  speak  of  nature  in  man,  and 
of  humanity  in  nature.  Man  shows  everywhere 
the  marks  of  his  temporal  environment.  His 
greatest  thoughts  have  a  provincial  air  about 
them.  When  he  uses  words,  he  employs  sounds 
that  ring  with  the  suggestions  of  time  and  space. 
When  he  speaks  of  God  as  Father,  he  borrows 
a  word  from  human  society  that  carries  in  it 
worlds  of  high  meaning  and  round  it  huge  clouds 
of  infirmity  and  sorrow.  The  word  even  drags 
up  with  it  the  associations  of  the  animal  origin 
of  man.  We  speak  of  eternal  love,  and  the  great 
conception  comes  like  the  sun,  but  like  the  sun 
blazing  a  path  for  itseK  through  the  shadows 
of  night ;  it  comes  with  associations  of  fleshly 
origin,  sentimental  meanings,  mixed  character, 
wide-reaching  and  doubtful  report.  We  speak 
of  the  kingdom  of  love,  and  that  word  kingdom 
is  unable  to  free  itself  from  suggestions  of  the 
oppressions  that  have  cursed  mankind.  We 
speak  of  the  moral  order,  and  again  the  associa- 
tions of  law,  custom,  immemorial  usage,  sometimes 
good,  sometimes  evil,  always  far  enough  from 
ideal,  cling  to  the  august  conception.  Again  the 
treasure  is  in  the  earthen  vessel,  again  the  vast 
idea  is  exposed  to  meanness  and  confusion  by  its 
temporal  expression.  Thus  it  is  with  heaven,  one 
')f  our  greatest  and  most  consoling  thoughts.  It 
is  in  vain  that  we  call  it  the  world  of  spirit,  the 


NATURE  AND  HUMANITY  95 

sphere  of  perfected  moral  service  and  fellowship, 
the  realm  where  in  full  and  happy  consciousness 
Just  men  live  and  move  and  have  their  being  in 
God.  Thus  exalted,  thus  held  aloof  from  our 
experience  here,  the  great  and  beautiful  thought 
becomes  vague,  insubstantial,  powerless.  It  must 
die  to  live.  It  must  put  on  a  body  of  humiliation. 
It  must  clothe  itself  in  metaphor.  It  must  glow 
and  burn  in  the  fires  of  time.  It  must  become 
our  Father's  house  of  many  mansions,  a  sublime 
repetition  of  the  fairest  of  human  homes.  And 
as  the  midnight  sky  in  the  lake  is  but  an  image 
of  the  starry  vault  above  it,  so,  and  conversely, 
our  heaven  must  become  another,  ampler,  holier, 
diviner  earth,  a  vast  and  glorified  picture  hung  in 
eternity  of  our  life  in  time,  —  a  holy  city,  a  new 
Jerusalem,  a  place  where  they  need  no  light  of 
the  sun  nor  of  the  moon,  where  the  Lord  God  is 
himself  the  light,  a  world  where  the  anthem  is 
that  of  a  company  that  no  man  can  number,  the 
voice  of  many  waters  and  mighty  thunderings. 
The  tumult  of  time,  the  endless  multitudes  of  be- 
lieving, purified  souls  lifted  out  of  pain,  glorified 
in  the  eternal,  that  is  the  form  which  our  thought 
of  heaven  must  put  on.  All  our  greatest  thoughts 
must  follow  the  example  of  Christ :  they  must 
lay  aside  their  native  superhuman  glory.  As  far 
as  pure  intellectual  form  is  concerned,  they  must 
make  themselves  of  no  reputation.    They  must 


96  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

descend  upon  man  through  images  and  asso- 
ciations that  have  power  over  man.  They  must 
assume  the  character  of  a  servant;  they  must 
become  obedient  unto  death,  yea,  the  death  of 
the  cross.  In  return  for  this  limitation  upon  our 
highest  thoughts,  this  humiliation  of  our  sub- 
limest  conceptions,  there  is  wrought  the  exalta- 
tion of  humanity,  the  sovereignty  of  man,  under 
God,  over  the  interests  that  belong  to  man. 

Under  the  same  law  stands  our  rational  and 
moral  character.  Our  thinking  is  done  at  lucid  in- 
tervals. We  vegetate.  Our  food  must  be  digested, 
and  that  process  arrests  thought ;  we  must  sleep, 
we  must  play,  we  must  attend  to  the  business 
of  living.  Physical  existence  is  a  constant  and 
harassing  problem.  Our  thinking  is  done  under 
these  limitations.  It  is  broken,  patched,  rolled 
in  all  the  associations  of  our  temporal  existence. 
And  when  we  attain  to  moments  of  freedom,  how 
few  and  how  fleeting  these  moments  are !  An 
immortal  moment,  an  ineffable  hour,  a  heavenly 
vision,  a  pure  glance  into  the  soul  of  the  universe, 
a  prayer,  a  song,  and  then  the  return  of  the  cloud, 
then  back  again  to  the  wheel  of  fire.  Aristotle's 
idea  of  blessedness,  for  God,  was  pure,  continu- 
ous, untroubled,  eternal  vision ;  and  for  man, 
those  high  moments  when  he  could  share  that 
beatific  vision. 

Not  only  as  thinkers,  but  also  as  doers  of  the 


NATURE  AND  HUMANITY  97 

will  of  God  we  suffer  here.  We  work  for  right- 
eousness in  time  and  space,  we  work  in  our  gen- 
eration and  in  our  small  neighborhood.  We  serve 
the  cause  of  justice  as  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers 
of  water,  as  food  producers  and  transporters,  as 
buyers  and  sellers,  as  battling  with  winds  and 
storms  in  all  the  mean  and  small  business  of 
the  world.  Our  ideals  are  set,  like  the  stars, 
"  in  the  black  bosom  of  night."  The  character 
that  we  win,  like  the  food  upon  which  we  live,  is 
gathered  in  the  fields  of  time.  And  again,  we 
must  not  push  too  hard ;  otherwise  we  shall  defeat 
the  high  purpose  of  the  soul.  Insanity  comes 
through  vice  and  crime,  through  selfishness  and 
shame ;  it  comes,  too,  through  all  forms  of  igno- 
rance. It  comes  through  unwise  religious  pas- 
sion. We  that  are  in  this  tabernacle  do  groan, 
being  burdened.  The  marks  of  nature,  obstinate, 
unconquerable,  mysterious,  are  upon  our  whole 
human  existence  in  this  world. 

On  the  other  side,  if  nature  limits  man,  man 
gives  to  nature  a  meaning  not  her  own.  For 
uncounted  ages  she  has  been  in  closest  associa- 
tion with  man.  She  is  thus  steeped  in  humanity. 
Look  into  the  Bible  for  examples.  Is  it  nature 
as  mountain?  There  are  Mount  Moriah  and 
Abraham,  Nebo  and  Moses,  Carmel  and  Elijah, 
Tabor,  Calvary,  Olivet  and  Jesus.  Is  it  the  sea  ? 
Jesus  and  Galilee,  Paul  and  the  Mediterranean, 


98  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

are  in  endless  association.  Is  it  the  river  ?  The 
Tigris,  the  Euphrates,  and  the  Jordan,  Abana 
and  Pharpar,  rivers  of  Damascus,  are  again  full 
of  human  color  and  character.  Is  it  the  sun  ? 
The  outgoings  of  the  morning  and  the  evening 
are  dyed  in  the  humanity  that  has  watched  with 
immemorial  admiration  this  double  diurnal  mir- 
acle of  splendor.  Is  it  the  starry  sky  ?  Job,  and 
the  millions  whom  he  represents,  look  up  and 
note  Arcturus,  Orion,  and  the  Pleiades  ;  look  up 
and  fill  those  bright  and  peaceful  worlds  with 
the  pathos  and  the  aspiration  of  human  hearts. 
The  poet's  song,  called  secular  only  by  those 
who  see  nothing  to  revere  in  human  love,-  repre- 
sents the  association  of  man  with  the  whole  realm 
of  nature :  — 

"  I  see  her  in  the  dewy  flowers  — 

I  see  her  sweet  and  fair. 
I  hear  her  in  the  tunefu'  birds  — 

I  hear  her  charm  the  air. 
There  's  not  a  bonie  flower  that  springs 

By  fountain,  shaw,  or  green, 
There  's  not  a  bonie  bird  that  sings, 

But  minds  me  o'  my  Jean." 

Every  object  in  nature  is  thus  touched  with  fresh 
meaning  through  association  with  human  love. 
Take  the  river.  It  flows  on  to-day  as  if  it  had 
just  begun ;  think  of  the  ages  of  its  life.  In  its 
source  there  is  the  inevitable  suggestion  of  the 
beginnings  of  man  in  mystery  and  in  weakness. 


NATURE  AND  HUMANITY  99 

In  its  swift,  ceaseless  movement  there  is  the  image 
of  the  unresting,  everlasting  generations  of  men. 
In  its  murmur  there  is  the  intonation  of  human- 
ity in  its  love  and  grief,  in  its  victory  and  defeat, 
in  its  weariness  and  hope  ;  the  sound  of  the  river 
is  the  voice  of  the  coimtless  thousands  who  have 
lived  upon  its  banks,  who  in  its  clear  and  calm 
current  have  found  the  mirror  of  their  happiness 
and  peace,  who  in  its  wild  and  dark  floods  have 
beheld  an  image  of  their  passionate  and  tumult- 
uous lives.  Oh,  the  pathos  of  that  ongoing,  whis- 
pering, singing,  moaning  river  !  The  heart-beats, 
the  heart-breaks,  the  morning  songs,  and  the 
unsilenceable  hopes  of  a  vast  and  vanished  human 
world  are  there.  And  down  to  the  sea  goes  the 
river.  Onward  to  the  end  go  the  generations 
of  men.  The  great  sea  waits  for  its  own ;  the 
Eternal  God  is  our  refuge  and  hope.  This  is  but 
a  hint  of  the  epic  of  an  immemorial  humanity 
that  is  sung  by  Nile  and  Ganges,  Tigris  and 
Euphrates,  Jordan  and  Tiber,  Thames  and  Doon, 
Hudson  and  Mississippi.  These  are  indeed  parts 
of  the  river  of  God ;  they  make  glad  the  city  of 
man. 

Thus  it  is  with  all  nature.  It  is  filled  with 
the  humanity  of  man.  And  Jacob's  well  was 
there.  Yes,  Jacob's  weU  is  everywhere.  Nature 
is  fair,  divinely  fair,  to  the  child.  Wordsworth 
has  spoken  for  the  childhood  of  the  world  :  — 


100  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

"  There  was  a  time  when  meadow,  grove,  and  stream, 
The  earth,  and  every  common  sight, 
To  me  did  seem 
Apparelled  in  celestial  light. 
The  glory  and  the  freshness  of  a  dream." 

And  for  this  testimony  we  thank  the  noble  poet. 
But  we  cannot  accept  him  as  representative  of 
humanity  when  he  adds :  — 

"  It  is  not  now  as  it  hath  been  of  yore  ;  — 
Turn  wheresoe'er  I  may, 
By  night  or  day, 
The  things  which  I  have  seen  I  now  can  see  no  more." 

The  vague  dream  of  childhood  matures  into  the 
splendid  vision  of  manhood.  The  child  sees  only 
the  sun ;  the  servant  of  God  sees  the  angel 
standing  in  the  sun.  The  child  beholds  only  the 
tumultuous  sea ;  the  servant  of  God  sees  again 
the  mighty  angel,  and  this  time  standing  with 
one  foot  on  the  sea  and  the  other  on  the  earth, 
filling  the  world  with  his  humanity,  filling  it  with 
the  revelation  of  the  humanity  of  God.  The  sun 
and  moon  and  stars  have  in  their  bright  faces 
the  image  of  all  the  lovers  that  have  transfigured 
the  earth,  the  lustre  of  all  the  saints  that  have 
hallowed  it.  The  triumphant  shout  of  all  the  sons 
of  God  is  preserved  in  the  endless  song  of  the 
morning  stars.  The  life,  the  love,  the  struggle, 
the  victory,  the  defeat,  the  hope,  the  fellowship, 
the  dear  and  divine  humanity  of  the  whole  race, 


NATURE  AND  HUMANITY  101 

has  risen  into  the  heights  of  nature,  has  sunk 
into  her  heart,  and  for  all  thinking  men  she  is 
immeasurably  more  and  greater  than  she  can  be 
to  the  child.  She  is  burdened  with  the  pathos, 
the  mystery,  and  the  endless  tragic  prophecy  of 
man's  existence.  The  cloud  rolls  into  the  path 
of  the  setting  sun.  It  is  touched,  shot  through 
with  light,  changed  into  a  burning  mass  of  in- 
expressible splendor;  it  is  filled  with  the  glory 
of  the  sun  that  is  passing.  Something  like  this 
has  happened  to  nature.  It  has  rolled  into  the 
path  of  humanity ;  it  is  laden  with  the  fires  of 
human  love,  it  is  burning  with  the  splendors  of 
human  faith  and  hope,  it  is  transfigured  in  the 
meaning  and  mystery  of  the  race  that  is  on  its 
way  to  God. 

3.  Finally,  we  learn  here  what  nature  can  give, 
and  what  she  cannot  give.  She  can  give  water 
from  her  deep,  abundant,  beautiful  weU.  In  that 
bounty  we  see  her  large  and  precious  ministry  to 
man.  But  there  is  a  limit  to  this  ministry  of 
nature.  The  water  of  life  she  cannot  give.  Man 
cannot  Hve  by  bread  alone,  but  by  every  word 
that  proceedeth  out  of  the  mouth  of  God.  There 
is  a  spirit  in  man,  and  the  inspiration  of  the 
Almighty  giveth  him  understanding.  "  In  his 
will  is  our  peace."  He  has  made  us  for  himself, 
and  we  cannot  rest  till  we  rest  in  Him. 

Three  pictures  rise  upon  the  vision  as  we  stand 


102  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

by  this  old  well  in  Samaria.  There  is  first  of 
all  the  well  and  its  founder  and  his  family,  his 
flocks  and  herds.  In  this  picture  the  well  seems 
to  be  all  that  the  Patriarch  needs.  Under  its 
abundant  and  refreshing  ministry  the  sense  of  its 
limitation  becomes  vague.  We  are  so  delighted 
with  what  the  well  can  do  that  we  cease  to  think 
about  what  it  cannot  do.  Thus  when  we  see  child- 
hood in  the  heart  of  nature,  among  its  singing 
birds  and  springing  flowers  ;  when  we  see  youth 
delighted  with  the  existence  that  breathing  and 
sleep  and  food  renew ;  when  we  see  men  living 
a  vigorous  and  happy  life  in  gathering  wealth,  in 
commanding  the  material  order,  in  drawing  water 
for  the  thirsting  world  from  the  open  fountains 
of  material  prosperity ;  when  we  see  human  beings 
pleased  with  mere  amusements,  contented  with 
the  mere  social  excitement,  satisfied  to  be  in  the 
whirl  of  things,  like  the  unprotesting  driftwood 
in  the  eddy  of  the  river,  we  are  apt  to  think  that 
the  outward  realm  is  everything,  that  Jacob's  well 
is  all  that  humanity  needs.  Ideals  conform  to 
this  picture.  The  great  sigh  goes  up :  what  shall 
we  eat,  and  what  shall  we  drink,  and  wherewithal 
shall  we  be  clothed  ?  The  picture  in  the  vast 
popular  imagination  is  of  Jacob  and  his  cara- 
van at  the  well,  resting  there,  and  refreshed  from 
its  ever-flowing  fountains,  and  contented  in  this 
refreshment  and  rest. 


NATURE  AND  HUMANITY  103 

As  we  dream  this  mere  sensuous  dream,  an- 
other picture  disturbs  us.  There  comes  a  woman 
of  Samaria.  Once  she  was  a  beautiful  child. 
At  her  birth  she  brought  joy  and  awe  into  the 
world.  The  sweet  tidings  of  her  advent  sped  like 
light  from  heart  to  heart,  from  home  to  home. 
She  was  given  to  God  in  the  thankful  love,  in  the 
joyous  faith  of  her  parents.  She  brought  into  her 
home  a  new  world  of  love.  She  fed  that  sacred 
flame  by  her  needs,  by  her  promise,  by  the  gra- 
cious ritual  of  childhood.  She  grew  in  personal 
grace  and  charm.  She  put  forth  the  fair  prophecy 
of  womanhood.  She  stood  on  the  threshold  of 
mature  existence  a  vision  of  loveliness  and  hope. 
Look  at  her  now.  Her  life  is  blasted.  It  is  fiUed 
with  shame.  Honor  is  gone.  All  regard  for  truth 
is  gone.  All  hope  of  good  repute  is  departed. 
All  expectation  of  noble  love  is  dead.  What  a 
wreck  is  here,  what  reversal  of  hope,  what  blast- 
ing of  promise,  what  outrage  upon  humanity  ! 

What  can  Jacob's  well  do  for  this  woman  ?  Is 
there  in  its  waters  any  full  and  adequate  help 
for  her  ? 

"  What  bauds  are  here  !  .  .  . 
Will  all  great  Neptune's  ocean  wash  this  blood 
Clean  from  my  hand?   No,  this  my  hand  will  rather 
The  multitudinous  seas  incarnadine, 
Making  the  green —  one  red." 

This  is  the  other  side  of  the  shield.    We  are  other, 


104  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

we  are  more,  than  nature.  We  are  not  under  a 
law  from  which  we  cannot  break.  Man  is,  and 
nature  is  not,  self-governing.  He  ought  to  be 
true  to  the  law  of  his  being  ;  he  can  disregard 
that  law ;  he  has  done  it,  he  is  doing  it,  and  that 
is  his  heritage  of  woe.  We  have  done  evil  where 
we  were  bound  to  do  good.  Our  hearts  condemn 
us,  and  God  is  greater  than  our  hearts  and  know- 
eth  all  things.  We  need  forgiveness,  and  no  man 
looking  into  mere  natural  law  can  say,  "  I  believe 
in  the  forgiveness  of  sins."  We  need  the  effu- 
sion of  divine  power,  the  inspiration  of  the  Al- 
mighty, and  no  man  looking  into  the  mere  order 
of  nature  can  say,  "  I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 
We  need  the  might  that  comes  through  fellow- 
ship in  the  vision  of  the  sublimest  ideals,  through 
the  discipline  of  a  common  service,  through  the 
consolation  of  imion  in  worship,  and  no  man 
looking  into  the  unrenewed  society  of  our  time 
can  say,  "  I  believe  in  the  communion  of  saints." 
We  need  the  sense  of  the  life  that  is  endless,  that 
is  without  break  or  pause,  that  carries  in  its  heart 
the  consciousness  of  its  infinite  meaning  for  God, 
and  again,  no  man  looking  into  the  mere  laws  of 
the  cosmos,  into  the  graves  of  the  race,  can  say, 
"  I  believe  in  the  life  everlasting."  To  the  well 
of  Jacob  we  come  for  water ;  for  the  water  of 
life  we  must  go  elsewhere.  Nature  as  cosmos, 
nature  as  the  world  over  against  man,  nature  as 


NATURE  AND  HUMANITY  105 

the  name  for  the  sum  of  the  forces  and  laws 
other  than  man,  can  give  us  bread,  but  she  can- 
not give  us  the  bread  of  hfe. 

The  well  that  we  need  as  men  is  the  well  of 
the  spirit.  The  water  that  we  need  for  our  souls 
is  the  water  of  life.  Our  deepest  need  is  tiie  need 
of  moral  order,  social  justice,  human  unselfish- 
ness, personal  integrity.  We  come  for  the  power 
to  rise  from  the  natural  man  into  the  normal,  into 
the  spiritual  man.  We  come  for  help  to  secure 
the  high  and  proper  attribute  of  humanity, — 
love.  We  cry  for  the  birth  of  love,  the  growth 
of  love,  the  manhood  of  love,  its  ascendency,  its 
sovereignty,  its  endless  and  cloudless  reign.  And 
in  man  we  come  to  know  the  character  of  the 
Power  that  is  underneath  Jacob's  well,  that  is 
underneath  our  humanity,  who  of  nature  and  of 
humanity  in  himself  constitutes  the  divine  uni- 
verse. We  come  in  vain  to  mere  nature,  we  come 
with  gain  only  when  in  man  crowned  with  the 
attributes  of  love  we  behold  the  image  of  our 
God. 

Thus  the  final  picture  is  of  Jesus  at  the  well. 
There  you  see  nature  living  in  the  vision  of 
Jesus,  there  you  note  what  her  birds  of  heaven 
and  her  lilies  of  the  field  owe  to  his  senses,  and 
there  you  see  him  rejoicing  in  the  great  and  con- 
stant ministry  of  nature.  There  you  see  the  su- 
preme human  soul,  the  soul  that  in  itself  is  higher 


106  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

than  the  heavens,  weary  with  its  journey,  resting 
by  the  well,  accommodating  its  sovereign  thoughts 
and  feelings  and  purposes  and  acts  to  the  capaci- 
ties of  the  body,  to  the  law  and  manner  of  a  pro- 
vincial and  passing  world,  making  itself  of  no 
reputation,  becoming  obedient  to  this  mystery  of 
humiliation ;  and  there  you  behold  mountain  and 
stream,  city  and  village,  fruitful  field  and  barren 
waste,  the  earth  and  the  sky,  the  whole  order  of 
nature,  hallowed  in  the  memory  of  his  divine  hu- 
manity, burning  and  yet  unconsumed  in  the  holy 
fires  of  his  love.  There  you  note  what  nature 
can  do  and  do  well ;  there,  too,  you  note  what 
she  cannot  do.  She  is  playgTound  for  the  chil- 
dren of  men ;  she  is  battleground  for  the  sons  of 
men.  She  is  the  rich  condition  of  physical  exist- 
ence. She  is  the  deep  and  dear  old  weU  to  which 
all  the  generations  come  in  gladness  for  refresh- 
ment and  rest.  But  for  the  soul  of  Jesus,  nature's 
hands  are  empty.  He  lives  upon  God.  His  meat 
is  to  do  the  wiU  of  God  and  to  accomplish  God's 
work.  His  bread  is  his  Father's  wisdom,  his 
drink  is  his  Father's  love.  His  being  moves  in 
the  sustaining  strength  of  the  Eternal.  His  per- 
fect humanity  is  at  an  infinite  height  above  nature. 
His  thought  answers  to  the  thought  of  God,  his 
love  to  the  love  of  God,  his  will  to  the  will  of  God. 
His  thought  is  truth,  his  passion  is  love,  his  will 
is  righteousness,  his  deed  is  power.  He  is  the 


NATURE  AND  HUMANITY  107 

perfect  human  soul,  and  therefore,  he  is  the  com- 
plete human  utterance  of  God.  Here  is  some- 
thing that  the  cosmos  cannot  give.  Here  is  the 
mind  of  God  in  the  mind  of  man  at  his  best ; 
here  is  the  heart  of  God  in  the  heart  of  man  at 
his  highest ;  here  is  the  will  of  God  in  the  will  of 
man  in  its  sublimest  mood ;  here  is  the  Eternal 
Father  in  the  Son  who  represents  the  origin,  the 
mission,  and  the  destiny  of  our  humanity.  Here 
with  him  at  the  well  let  us  rest ;  here  through 
his  sovereign  soul  let  us  look  upon  God ;  here  let 
us  ask  of  him  that  he  may  give  us  the  living 
water. 


VI 

LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND  TIME 

'    "And  Jacob   served  seven  years  for  Rachel;  and  they   seemed  unto 
him  but  a  few  days,  for  the  love  he  had  to  her." 

Genesis  xxix,  20. 

Good  men,  as  they  grow  older,  become  more  and 
more  sympathetic  and  grateful  toward  youth. 
And  no  grateful  friend  of  youth  can  look  un- 
moved upon  the  meeting  of  these  two  cousins, 
Jacob  the  son  of  Rebecca,  and  Rachel  the 
daughter  of  Laban.  The  freshness,  the  beauty  of 
morning  is  in  the  scene.  The  touch  of  a  mystic 
hmnanity  is  in  it ;  the  profound  and  tender  feeling 
of  kindred  is  there,  the  feeling  of  kindred  in  the 
deepest-hearted  race  that  ever  lived.  Jacob  is  a 
wanderer,  an  exile  from  his  home  because  of  his 
misdeeds.  We  can  imagine  what  the  vision  of 
this  fair  cousin  in  the  bloom  of  youth  was  to  him. 
Rachel  is  at  the  monotonous  task  of  a  shepherd's 
daughter;  and  we  can  imagine  her  appreciation 
of  the  young  man  who  rolled  the  stone  from 
the  weU's  mouth,  and  who  that  memorable  day 
watered  the  flocks  for  her.  "  And  Jacob  kissed 
Rachel  and  lifted  up  his  voice  and  wept."  The 
power  of  blood,  the  joy  of  kinship,  the  instinc- 
tive gladness  and  tenderness  of  concordant  hearts, 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND   TIME  109 

the  religious  awe  and  delight  of  unnamed  and 
unconscious  love,  took  possession  of  both.  Then 
conies  the  dust  of  the  actual  blown  in  the  clean 
and  shining  face  of  the  ideal.  The  commercial 
nephew  speaks  to  the  commercial  uncle.  For  the 
prophetic  father  of  Israel  was  not  carried  away 
by  sentiment,  at  least  he  was  not  so  carried  away 
by  it  as  to  be  incapable  of  making  a  contract. 
The  contract  with  the  father  and  uncle  was  that 
Jacob  should  serve  for  Rachel  seven  years ;  and 
we  are  told  that  they  seemed  to  him  but  a  few 
days,  for  the  love  he  had  for  her. 

In  this  profoundly  beautiful  Old  Testament 
story  there  is  a  path  to  some  of  the  greatest 
things  in  human  life  ;  there  is  a  path  to  the 
sources  of  our  whole  human  world ;  there  is  an 
introduction  to  the  living  order  of  our  humanity. 
The  story  seems  to  suggest  for  our  subject  the 
revelation  of  God  through  youth,  and  our  discus- 
sion falls  into  two  divisions,  —  love  and  life,  and 
love  and  time. 

I.  We  note  in  the  story  the  great  word  love 
upon  the  lips  of  life.  It  was  the  love  first  of 
cousin  for  cousin,  second  of  youth  for  youth, 
finally  of  man  for  woman  and  of  woman  for 
man.  What  did  it  mean  ?  That  question  should 
not  be  difficult  to  answer.  The  experience  is 
so  genuinely,  purely,  beautifully  human  that  it 
should  not  be  hard  to  discern  its  character. 


110  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

There  is  in  it  the  vision  of  the  ideal,  the  passion 
for  the  ideal.  Jacob  saw  before  hira  the  beauty 
of  the  universe  embodied,  not  wholly  embodied, 
indeed.  He  was  a  sane  lover,  and  doubtless  felt 
that  Rachel,  fair  as  she  was,  could  become  fairer 
still.  The  embodied  ideal  suggested  the  ideal  to 
be  embodied,  the  ideal  unembodied,  fugitive,  im- 
measurable, infinite,  eternal.  Jacob  found,  too, 
that  he  was  able  in  the  presence  of  this  woman 
to  revere  all  women.  Rachel  redeemed  the  race. 
In  a  degree  all  women  were  fair  and  sweet  because 
they  wore  her  nature.  The  ideal  that  glorified 
the  nature,  that  sweetened  the  flesh  and  blood 
of  this  woman,  lived  in  womankind  with  hallow- 
ing power.  Further,  this  man  found  that  he  could 
respect  himself.  He  had  fallen  from  that  height. 
His  deceit  and  lies  had  cast  him  down.  But  he 
has  somehow  found  reconciliation  with  his  con- 
science. Doubtless  in  his  case  it  was  not  a  hard 
master.  Still  he  has  gone  forth  into  the  disin- 
terested life.  He  has  become  a  lover ;  and  love 
gives  the  sense  of  worth ;  it  gives  strength  and 
boldness.  This  man  found  the  ideal  in  himself, 
giving  to  his  being  exaltation,  refinement,  dignity, 
composure,  and  hope.  He  looked  upon  mankind 
with  new  eyes.  The  ideal  was  in  all  men  ;  they 
were  wanderers  like  himself,  and  in  one  degree 
or  another  they  were  lovers.  A  further  discovery 
yet  this  man  makes.    Here  is  the  universe.    It 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND   TIME  111 

must  be  the  final  home  of  the  ideal.  Somewhere 
that  soul  of  fire  resides  in  it.  Perhaps  that  eter- 
nal spirit  of  loveliness  fills  it,  and  is  the  fountain  of 
all  its  worth.  Arcturus,  Orion,  and  the  Pleiades 
are  perhaps  but  the  high  and  shining  symbols 
of  it ;  the  countless  stars  are  perhaps  but  the 
bright  and  sovereign  eyes  with  which  the  eternal 
ideal  watches  the  ways  of  men.  Thus  in  the 
vision  of  the  ideal  and  in  the  passion  for  it  this 
man  has  been  led  to  the  fountams  of  home,  of 
human  brotherhood,  and  of  faith  in  God. 

The  true  himian  home  rests  upon  love.  That 
love  is  the  vision  of  an  embodied  ideal  and  the 
passion  for  it.  This  revelation  of  God  is  renewed 
in  every  fresh  generation.  The  minister  lives  by 
the  side  of  this  gi-eat  fountain  of  our  humanity. 
He  sees  with  Wordsworth  the  native  endowment 
of  childhood ;  the  boundless  surge  of  the  Divine 
nature  he  notes  behind  it.  With  the  exultant 
poet  he  sees  the  children  sport  upon  the  shore, 
and  hears 

"  The  mighty  waters  rolling  evermore." 

He  sees  and  hears,  however,  more  than  this.  The 
tabernacle  of  God  is  with  men.  The  minister  be- 
holds the  boys  and  girls  become  young  men  and 
maidens.  Their  love  of  hfe,  their  intense  desire 
for  pleasure,  their  keen  sense  of  humor,  their 
aptitude  for  laughter,  their  unstable  and  fugitive 


112  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

seriousness,  their  exposure  to  imposture,  and  their 
genius  for  mistakes  do  not  hide  from  his  penetrat- 
ing and  sympathetic  vision  the  vast  consecration 
of  existence  which  love  brings.  Even  in  unmoi-al 
natures  love  issues  in  reverence  for  the  object 
of  it.  It  gathers  itseK  into  promises,  it  goes 
out  in  pledges,  it  offers  up  instructive  prayers, 
it  calls  upon  manhood  to  stand  upon  its  honor,  it 
summons  the  soul  to  a  new  and  a  responsible 
life.  And  where  children  have  been  fortunate 
in  their  chUdhood,  where  young  men  and  young 
women  have  been  fortunate  in  their  youth,  where 
their  environment  has  been  wholesome,  and 
where  their  friends  have  been  high,  nothing  on 
this  earth  is  more  beautiful  or  more  significant 
than  the  flowering  of  the  nature  in  honest  human 
love.  There  is  what  we  call  the  idealization  of 
the  woman  by  the  man,  and  of  the  man  by  the 
woman.  Upon  the  part  of  both  there  is  insight 
into  the  awful  beauty  of  the  human  soul.  There 
is  the  discovery  in  the  beloved  life  of  an  ideal 
embodied,  and  still  unembodied,  hovering  over 
existence,  and  calling,  "  Come  up  higher."  In 
each  for  the  other,  flesh  and  blood  are  sweetened 
by  this  ideal,  indwelling  and  yet  transcendent ; 
in  each  for  the  other,  personality  is  touched  with 
awe  because  of  the  loving  soul  within,  and  yet 
more  because  of  the  fathomless  capacity  for  love 
there.  Here  one  comes  to  understand  the  majesty 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND   TIME  113 

of  Kant's  great  dictum :  Never  use  personality, 
your  own  or  another's,  as  means,  but  always  re- 
vere it  as  an  end.  When  you  read  the  story  of 
Jacob  and  Rachel,  Haemon  and  Antigone,  Dante 
and  Beatrice,  Edwards  and  Sarah  Pierrepont, 
Burns  and  Highland  Mary,  you  are  sure  that 
the  heart  of  aU  true  love  is  reverence,  and  that 
reverence  is  the  only  assurance  of  honor.  Stand 
in  awe  and  sin  not.  Nothing  less  and  nothing 
other  than  the  force  of  gravity  can  keep  our 
planet  to  its  orbit;  nothing  less  and  nothing 
other  than  the  awe  born  of  love  can  assuredly 
and  peacefully  control  the  passions  of  man. 

Into  this  high  mood  the  youth  of  each  new  gen- 
eration are  brought.  They  are  brought  hither  in 
preparation  for  the  greatness  of  family  life.  The 
consecration  of  love  is  a  consecration  in  moral 
awakening,  in  moral  purpose,  in  moral  power. 
The  family  life  of  mankind  is  the  first  great  rev- 
elation of  the  moral  order  of  the  world.  The 
lover  alone  is  justified  in  founding  a  home,  the 
lover  alone  can  keep  his  vow,  the  lover  alone  has 
the  reverence  that  exalts  the  soul,  that  protects 
the  inviolable  rights  of  united  personalities,  that 
surely  promises  a  harvest  of  happiness.  Look  at 
the  trees  in  your  orchard  in  the  month  of  May. 
Is  there  any  tree  there  undowered  with  blossoms, 
whose  life  has  not  flowered  into  this  miracle 
of  stainless  beauty  ?   That  tree  might  as  well  be 


114  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

dead.  Those  others,  tossing  their  boughs  tipped 
with  exquisite  life,  sweetening  the  air  with  deli- 
cious perfumes,  are  the  living  trees.  From  them 
the  golden  harvest  is  to  come.  If  you  can  think  of 
a  procession  of  loveless  youth  on  the  way  to  the 
marriage  altar,  you  have  over  again,  and  this 
time  in  humanity,  the  dead  tree.  The  human  pre- 
paration for  the  august  relation  does  not  exist. 
The  new  life  that  consecrates  for  the  new  estate 
is  not  there.  The  fountain  that  is  to  quench  the 
family  thirst  for  all  high  bearing  and  all  noble 
deeds  is  choked.  Humanity  there  is  denied, 
desecrated,  put  to  open  shame.  Only  the  proces- 
sion of  lovers  are  qualified  to  found  homes  ;  only 
they  whose  natures  have  flowered  in  a  great  and 
beautiful  ideal  and  who  see  each  in  the  other  the 
presence  and  prophecy  of  that  ideal,  only  they 
whose  souls  have  beheld  each  other  in  mystery 
and  awe,  are  fitted  to  estabhsh  the  greatest  of  all 
institutions.  For  the  first  revelation  of  normal 
youth  is  just  this :  the  awakening  of  man  is  in 
love,  the  heart  of  love  is  reverence,  and  reverence 
is  the  last  and  the  mightiest  assurance  of  a  just 
and  good  life. 

It  is  true  to-day  that  the  lover  Is  the  source 
of  aU  high  social  feeling.  Self-respect  is  the  sum- 
mit of  the  soul,  and  when  one  has  risen  to  that 
elevation,  he  finds  in  corresponding  elevations  a 
multitude  of  men.    The  fine  thing  about  the  sum- 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND   TIME  115 

mit  of  a  towering  alpine  height  is  the  discovery 
that  it  is  not  alone,  that  it  is  one  of  a  vast  range 
of  similar  heights,  that  it  beholds  rising  about  it 
sister  peaks,  on  whose  crests  it  watches  with  joy 
the  play  of  morning  and  the  glow  of  evening. 
The  man  who  has  found  his  own  conscience  has 
little  difficulty  in  finding  conscience  in  other  men. 
The  bad  man  lives  in  a  valley.  He  is  sunken  in 
the  deep  and  narrow  defile  of  his  own  sordidness. 
He  mistakes  his  misfortune  for  the  order  of  hu- 
man nature.  There  are,  indeed,  midtitudes  with 
him  in  his  calamity.  Still,  the  facts  of  their  hves 
do  not  give  the  truth  about  man.  They  cannot  see 
the  mountains  that  tower  all  about  them  because 
they  are  lost  in  the  abyss  of  their  own  selfishness. 
If  they  would  but  rise,  in  honor,  in  friendship, 
in  the  sense  of  obligation,  in  disinterested  man- 
hood, they  would  behold  towering  about  them 
kindred  spirits.  It  was  one  of  the  worst  of  poli- 
ticians who  said  that  every  man  has  his  price.  He 
had  spent  his  life  in  giving  and  in  taking  bribes  ; 
he  had  lived  among  those  who  were  hungry  for 
bribes  ;  hence  his  generalization.  If  he  had  been 
himself  a  just  man,  he  would  have  lived  else- 
where, he  would  have  met  other  men,  he  would 
have  looked  into  the  faces  of  kings. 

Self-respect  is  found  in  love.  The  lover  knows 
his  worth,  and  his  capacity  for  immeasurable 
worth.    He  beholds  other  lovers  and  notes  their 


,  116  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

worth,  actual  and  possible.  It  is  therefore  easy 
for  hina  to  live,  in  open  vision  of  all  the  mistakes 
and  imperfections  of  men,  with  a  prevailing  sense 
of  the  majesty  of  the  human  soul.  Here  is  a 
swamp  maple.  The  autumn  has  come  and  turned 
it  into  a  living,  burning  splendor.  It  knows  the 
glory  of  its  life  and  rejoices  in  it.  It  looks  abroad 
and  sees  other  trees  of  its  kind.  There  they 
stand,  aU  touched  with  the  same  fire,  all  burn- 
ing in  the  same  splendor.  One  swamp  maple  in 
the  autumn  differs  in  glory  from  another  swamp 
maple.  But  the  racial  distinction  is  in  every  one 
of  them.  Each,  as  it  burns  in  the  autumn  sun- 
hght,  sees  that  all  the  others  are  touched  with  the 
same  beauty  ;  therefore  they  are  a  brotherhood 
and  preach  the  community  of  beautiful  lives. 
The  man  who  loves  one  woman  reveres  woman- 
hood. Womankind  through  that  special  woman 
commands  honor.  The  nature  of  the  race  is 
read  in  a  single  instance,  the  capacity  of  the  race 
is  seen  in  this  particular  member,  the  high  func- 
tion of  all  is  beheld  and  revered  in  the  sacred 
humanity  of  the  individual  person.  The  lover 
is  the  knight ;  he  is  the  true  seer  of  the  order  of 
Womanhood. 

In  the  same  light  he  reads  the  nature  of  men. 
They  are  capable  of  his  vision  of  an  embodied 
ideal,  his  passion  for  it,  his  self-consecration  in 
its  presence.    If  his  life  is  dyed  in  the  color  of 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND    TIME  117 

this  dayspring  from  on  high,  if  his  nature  is 
warm  and  resplendent  with  the  presence  in  it  of 
a  hallowing  affection,  he  is  able  to  look  abroad 
and  to  discover  a  host  of  men  standing  in  the 
sun.  Social  sentiment  in  its  purest  character  and 
in  its  highest  power  is  the  issue  of  love.  Play- 
mates, schoolmates,  classmates,  comrades  in  this 
profession  and  in  that,  citizens  of  the  same  great 
country,  come  to  the  divine  fountain  of  love 
for  the  consecration  of  youth  into  the  complete 
sense  of  human  brotherhood.  The  older  men  and 
women  have  loved,  their  existence  has  been  hal- 
lowed by  it,  their  losses  and  sorrows  are  sacra- 
ments of  it.  They  lead  out  to  the  older  contempo- 
rary humanity  of  the  world,  carrying  its  flaming 
memory  in  the  cloud  of  present  grief.  They  lead 
backward  to  the  himianity  that  has  loved  and 
suffered  and  gone.  And  here  are  the  children, 
the  young  men  and  maidens  of  to-morrow,  the 
lovers  who  are  coming,  who  are  to  bless  the  world 
with  their  brightened  lives.  In  between  the  older 
generation  and  the  younger,  between  the  retreat- 
ing lovers  and  the  advancing,  are  the  present  pos- 
sessors of  this  divine  charm.  They  unite  in  their 
own  anointed  humanity  the  past  and  the  present 
and  the  future  of  mankind.  In  their  shining  faces 
we  see  the  race  reflected,  and  in  spite  of  all  bru- 
tality, we  know  that  the  race  is  one. 

Here,  too,  is  the  fountain  of  all  living  faith. 


118  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

The  Bible  is  not  the  first  witness  for  God.  The 
world,  the  cosmos,  the  universe,  is  not  the  first. 
The  soul  alive  through  love  is  the  aboriginal  wit- 
ness for  God.  Does  color  mean  anything  to  the 
blind  ?  Does  great  music  signify  anything  to  the 
deaf?  Do  Assyrian  characters  convey  to  you  or 
to  me  the  least  knowledge  of  the  hands  that 
formed  them  or  the  minds  that  breathed  thought 
into  them  ?  For  the  world  at  large  the  Scriptures 
must  be  translated  from  Hebrew  and  Greek  into 
the  language  of  the  people.  Still  another  trans- 
lation must  be  made.  The  Bible  is  the  lover's 
book.  It  is  the  greatest  expression  of  the  great- 
est love  that  has  ever  visited  mankind.  The  lov- 
er's vision  of  the  ideal  is  in  it,  and  how  sublime 
that  vision  is !  The  lover's  passion  for  the  ideal 
is  in  it,  and  how  great  that  passion  is!  Now 
it  is  as  soft  and  gentle  as  the  zephyr,  again 
there  is  in  it  the  rush  of  the  hurricane  ;  here  it  is 
the  low,  sweet  evening  song  of  the  bird,  there  it 
is  the  peal  of  thunder.  The  Bible  is  an  elemen- 
tal book,  —  elemental  in  the  vastness  of  its  vision 
of  the  ideal,  and  in  the  fullness  and  splendor  of 
its  passion.  And  this  book  is  a  sealed  book  until 
the  angel  of  love  breaks  the  seal. 

Coleridge  made  a  remark  about  the  Bible 
which  has  become  a  proverb.  He  said  that  the 
Bible  found  him,  and  f oimd  him  at  greater  depths 
of  his  being  than  all  other  books ;  therefore  he 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND   TIME  119 

believed  in  it  as  he  believed  in  no  other.  But 
this  remark  shows  that  Coleridge  was  alive.  He 
had  become  a  lover ;  he  had  seen  with  his  own 
eyes  the  divine ;  he  had  felt  its  power  upon  his 
own  heart.  And  the  Bible  came  in  to  interpret, 
to  expand,  to  exalt,  to  purify,  and  to  breathe 
into  his  soul,  in  greater  fullness,  the  Holy  Ghost. 
Understandest  thou  what  thou  readest?  said 
Philip  to  the  Ethiopian.  How  can  I,  except  some 
one  shall  guide  me  ?  was  the  Ethiopian's  reply. 
What  was  the  obstacle  ?  There  was  the  story  of 
a  supremely  good  man  treated  as  if  he  had  been 
supremely  bad.  That  was  plain  to  the  reader.  The 
puzzle  was  to  know  who  the  person  was  to  whom 
the  language  applied.  Philip's  task  was  easy. 
He  had  only  to  recite  the  story  of  the  ministry  and 
the  sufferings  of  Jesus,  and  the  passage  became 
clear.  But  suppose  the  Ethiopian  had  been  with- 
out the  sense  of  suffering  love.  Suppose  him  never 
to  have  known  anything  about  the  higher  hero- 
ism of  the  human  soul.  Suppose  him  to  have 
been  mean,  sordid,  self-centred,  destitute  of  the 
least  experience  of  the  illuminating  power  of  love. 
In  that  case  Philip's  task  would  have  been  hope- 
less. You  can  as  soon  explain  color  to  the  blind, 
or  a  Beethoven  symphony  to  the  deaf,  as  you  can 
expound  to  a  loveless  heart  the  greater  things 
in  the  Bible.  For  the  Bible  is  born  of  love  ;  it  is 
the  sovereign  historic  expression  of  it,  and  that 


120  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

one  may  understand  it,  he  must  bring  to  it  the 
lover's  mind  and  heart. 

For  the  beginnings  of  faith  we  come  back  to 
youth.  The  ideal  is  in  the  beloved ;  it  is  not 
wholly  there.  The  maddest  lover  wiU  confess 
that.  The  ideal  is  in  contemporary  humanity,  in 
so  far  as  it  loves,  in  so  far  as  it  has  the  capacity 
to  love.  The  statue  of  Memnon  sang  when  the 
morning  light  touched  it ;  but  all  through  the 
dark  hours  of  night  the  capacity  of  joyous  re- 
sponse to  the  appeal  of  the  new  day  slumbered 
in  its  marble  heart.  That  capacity  made  it  a 
wonder.  The  youth  who  at  the  touch  of  the 
heavenly  person  breaks  into  the  song  of  love, 
carried  in  his  heart  from  the  beginning  that 
divine  capacity.  Thus  the  ideal  lives  in  con- 
temporary humanity  because  of  love  and  because 
of  the  capacity  for  love.  Any  moment  tlie  light 
may  come  that  shaU  inspire  with  song  these 
multitudes  of  silent,  statuesque  lives. 

The  ideal  is  in  contemporary  humanity,  but  it 
is  not  wholly  there.  Love  is  as  old  as  man.  It 
began  with  the  earliest  beholding  eyes,  and  the 
beating  of  the  first  hmnan  heart.  It  has  been  the 
romance  of  each  new  generation.  It  has  held 
worth  and  joy  in  life  against  all  brutality  and  aU 
misery.  It  has  hallowed  the  career  of  man.  It 
has  been  through  the  whole  terrible  tragedy  of 
history  the  prevailing  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit ; 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND   TIME  121 

we  can  hear  the  successive  generations  singing, 
sometimes  from  the  heights,  and  sometimes  from 
the  depths :  — 

"  All  hail  !  ye  tender  feelings  dear  ! 
The  smile  of  love,  the  friendly  tear, 
The  sympathetic  glow  ! 
Long  since  this  world's  thorny  ways 
Had  numbered  out  my  weary  days, 
Had  it  not  been  for  you  !  " 

However  hard,  however  cold,  however  cruel  it 
may  have  become  at  times,  the  race  is  carried  in 
youth  into  the  vast  and  beautiful  kingdom  of 
love. 

The  ideal  is  in  mankind  ;  but  it  is  not  wholly 
there.  It  is  here,  and  it  is  afar  ;  it  is  at  our  side, 
and  it  is  higher  than  the  heavens.  It  is  indwelling 
in  man,  and  at  the  same  time  transcendent,  fugi- 
tive, immeasurable,  eternal.  It  fills  the  universe. 
It  is  the  order,  the  beauty,  the  goodness,  of  all 
that  exists.  It  is  the  true  animus  mundi^  the 
ineffable  Soul  of  the  universe.  Its  shadow  has 
been  in  the  lover's  heart  since  love  began.  Its 
shadow  is  in  the  heart  of  lovers  still.  We  chase 
the  flying  loveliness,  and  still  we  remain  in 
that  awful  shadow.  At  length  we  perceive  that 
we  are  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High, 
and  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty. 

Thus  youth  in  its  dower  of  love  reveals  the 
rock  on  which  the  family  life  of  mankind  rests  ; 


122  THBOUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

thus  it  discovers  the  bonds  that  bind  into  one 
brotherhood  the  whole  race  of  man  ;  thus  it  finds 
in  its  own  heart  the  word  of  God,  and  is  able  to 
receive  that  word  in  sovereign  power  back  from 
the  Book  of  faith.  And  thus  youth  in  its  love, 
when  it  understands  itself,  may  sing  to  the  world : 

"Mighty  the  Wizard 
Who  found  me  at  sunrise 
Sleeping,  and  woke  me 
And  learn'd  me  Magic  ! 
Great  the  Master, 
And  sweet  the  Magic, 
When  over  the  valley, 
In  early  summers, 
Over  the  mountain, 
On  human  faces, 
And  all  around  me, 
Moving  to  melody. 
Floated  the  Gleam." 

II.  Love  is  of  God;  so  wrote  the  beloved 
disciple  in  his  old  age.  In  his  youth  there 
had  come  to  him  through  Jesus  the  revelation 
of  God.  As  a  young  man  the  supreme  aspect 
of  that  revelation  had  been  love,  and  the  or- 
ganic structure  of  human  life.  Working  in 
the  fires  of  his  passionate  youth ;  living  in  his 
ideals  as  a  son,  brother,  and  disciple ;  flam- 
ing in  his  sympathies  as  a  human  being,  Jesus 
had  shown  to  John  the  love  of  God.  Youth  has 
left  him  long  since.    The  Eternal  loveliness  in 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND   TIME  123 

the  form  of  his  Master  has  long  ago  vanished 
from  the  earth.  For  more  than  the  half  of  a 
long  life,  the  conflict  in  his  heart  has  been  be- 
tween love  and  time.  When  life  has  reached  its 
maturity,  when  the  tumult  of  passion  has  sub- 
sided, when  the  world  is  passing  away  from  us 
into  the  power  of  the  coming  generation,  does 
love  last?  The  spread  of  the  eagle's  wings  is 
great  and  beautiful,  but  wholly  dependent  upon 
the  strength  of  its  spinal  cord.  Is  it  so  with  love  ? 
Its  wide-reaching  sympathies  begin,  as  we  have 
seen,  in  the  mysterious  fires  of  youth.  Are  they 
withdrawn,  do  they  droop  and  fail,  when  the 
prime  of  physical  life  is  past  ?  Is  the  material- 
ist right,  whether  philosopher  or  novelist,  when 
he  contends  that  love  is  the  incident  of  physi- 
ology? When  we  grant  to  the  materialist  that 
love  begins  with  the  bloom  of  youth,  are  we 
bound  to  accept  his  conclusion  that  it  fades  with 
that  bloom  ?  May  we  not  contend  that,  in  the 
case  of  the  true  man  and  woman,  there  is  evolved 
from  the  lower,  sensuous  love,  a  higher,  a  self- 
sustaining,  a  divine  love,  even  as  from  the  creep- 
ing caterpillar  there  is  evolved  the  life  that  no 
longer  needs  the  feet  of  its  former  self,  that  has 
wings  to  bear  it  upward  from  the  earth? 

Plato  has  dedicated  one  of  his  immortal  Dia- 
logues to  love.  Many  friends  meet  at  a  great  ban- 
quet. Around  the  table  where  so  much  genius  and 


124  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

good-fellowship  is  gathered  the  theme  of  conver- 
sation is  love.  Speeches  are  made  upon  this 
theme  by  a  variety  of  persons.  At  last  Socrates 
speaks ;  and  his  general  thought  is  true  for  all 
time.  Love  is  the  life  of  the  cosmos  ;  it  puts 
on  a  multitude  of  forms ;  it  is  subject  to  fright- 
ful abuses ;  it  has,  besides,  lower  forms  and 
higher.  Its  inmost  character  is  found  in  its 
power  of  ascension.  It  pushes  ever  upward,  and 
still  upward.  It  is  defeated  unless  it  flowers  at 
last  in  the  adoration  of  the  Eternal  loveliness.  It 
begins  in  God,  and,  when  free  and  unimpeded, 
through  animal  life,  through  human  life,  through 
the  soul  of  the  rapt  lover  of  wisdom,  it  returns 
to  God.  What  love  is  when  it  enters  humanity, 
you  may  know  when  you  see  it  issuing  from 
humanity  in  the  glorious  passion  of  the  philoso- 
phic soul.  The  last  of  love  is  the  revelation  of 
the  first  of  love  ;  the  revelation  of  God  through 
the  youthful  lover  is  perfected  through  the  vet- 
eran lover. 

In  this  great  Dialogue,  Alcibiades  describes 
Socrates  as  like  the  bust  of  Silenus  kept  in  the 
rooms  of  artists,  outside  huge,  coarse,  ugly,  but 
containing  within  images  of  the  gods.  Nothing 
could  better  represent  the  life  of  any  true  man 
in  his  contest  with  time.  Time  takes  the  yormg 
Apollo  and  turns  him  into  the  bust  of  Silenus. 
And  if  the  outward  is  everything,  when  youth  is 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND   TIME  125 

gone,  all  grace,  all  charm,  all  strength  is  gone. 
But  the  exterior  is  not  everything.  Inside  that 
bust  of  Silenus  is  the  fair  image  of  God,  inside 
that  body  from  which  the  strength  and  grace 
have  gone  there  is  a  soul  of  loveliness  looking  up 
in  awe  and  in  hope  to  the  Eternal.  Look  upon 
the  outward,  but  do  not  stop  with  that ;  look 
inward  and  behold  there  the  love  that  is  grow- 
ing deeper,  richer,  fairer,  every  day,  that  in  its 
hiding-place  prays  for  the  coming  of  the  king- 
dom of  love,  that  waits  for  the  freedom  and  the 
triumph  of  the  City  of  God. 

In  the  story  of  Jacob  and  Rachel,  love  meets 
time  and  service,  meets  them  as  obstacles  in  its 
way.  Our  interpretation  of  that  wonderful  idyll 
will  be  incomplete  if  we  do  not  consider  for  a 
few  moments  this  conflict  of  love  and  time. 

That  lover  of  the  ancient  world  was  compelled 
to  wait  and  to  serve.  He  made  light  of  both  time 
and  service.  The  years  were  as  days  in  the  joy  of 
his  full  heart.  The  present  was  so  crowded  with 
gladness  that  concern  for  the  future  was  impos- 
sible. The  service  exacted  of  him  was  not  even 
mentioned.  It  wrought  within  him  chastity  of 
heart ;  it  gave  him  worth  and  self-reliance  ;  and 
it  was  one  great  form  of  conununion  between 
him  and  the  object  of  his  love.  Love  conquered 
time,  it  conquered  everything;  sovereign  in  life, 
it  became  sovereign  over  all. 


126  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

Is  this  high  disdain  for  youth,  and  only  for 
youth  ?  Is  this  revelation  of  God  through  youth 
limited  in  its  inspiration  to  youth  ?  Does  the  east 
that  gives  the  sun  keep  the  sun  ?  Does  not  the 
sun  roll  forward,  spreading  his  light  through  the 
whole  sky  ?  Still  rolling  onward,  does  he  not  go 
hence  in  the  west,  revealing  his  soul  of  fire  there 
as  he  could  not  reveal  it  in  the  east?  This  is 
the  truth  about  the  course  of  the  sun  ;  this  is  the 
truth  about  the  path  of  the  just.  Maturity  takes 
the  ideals  of  youth  and  holds  them  with  a 
quieter  and  surer  strength.  It  sees  the  three 
great  objects  of  youthful  love,  —  the  family, 
the  social  whole,  the  Infinite,  —  and  follows  them 
with  a  vaster  and  purer  veneration.  The  morn- 
ing song  of  the  bird  is  louder,  but  infinitely  less 
sweet  and  tender,  than  its  evening  song.  Love 
has  more  passion  in  youth,  but  it  has  more 
pathos  and  piety  in  age.  Love's  all  hail  is  great, 
its  farewell  is  greater. 

The  first  great  advantage  of  the  veteran  lover 
over  love's  raw  recruit  is  that  he  understands 
something  of  the  power  that  has  been  with  him 
all  these  years.  He  sees  that  the  domestic  life 
of  man  is  an  order  of  lovers.  It  is  a  vast,  it  is 
an  immemorial  institute.  It  has  been  burdened 
with  error  and  smitten  with  sorrow.  It  has  been 
girt  about  by  fearful  enemies  ;  these  enemies  have 
fiercely  assailed  it,  and  often  they  have  prevailed 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND   TIME  127 

against  it  and  inflicted  upon  it  the  most  seri- 
ous injury.  Still  it  has  survived.  It  is  bound  to 
survive.  It  is  in  movement  from  the  more  to  the 
less  imperfect.  It  is  under  the  ceaseless  attrac- 
tion of  the  ideal  born  of  the  highest  love.  To 
this  it  is  held ;  toward  this  it  is  rising  ;  into 
the  likeness  of  this  it  will  be  transformed.  You 
look  at  the  star  when  it  sparkles  on  the  dim 
horizon  line,  when  it  sends  its  half -baffled  gleam 
through  the  mist  and  smoke  that  lie  round  it  on 
the  lower  levels  of  its  career.  That  is  not  the 
whole  star.  Wait  and  watch  it  as  it  climbs.  Slowly 
it  creeps  upward  away  from  the  foul  vapors  of 
the  earth ;  steadily  it  escapes  from  limitation  and 
distress,  surely  it  reaches  the  zenith,  and  there 
it  shines  in  pure,  untroubled  splendor.  Look  at 
the  family  life  of  the  world  in  early  times ;  look 
at  it  in  later  times.  Mark  in  it  this  one  feature, 
its  steady  improvement,  its  constant  ascent.  The 
Eternal  lover  whom  we  have  found  is  lifting  the 
human  home  out  of  the  dust  and  darkness  of  ani- 
malism ;  he  is  carrying  it  upward  into  his  own 
presence.  He  will  bring  the  lover's  home  to  its 
state  of  purity  and  light  and  peace  at  last.  For 
this  the  older  lover  sees  that  he  must  serve  and 
wait.  And  because  of  the  love  that  he  has  toward 
that  consummation  of  the  human  home,  he  dis- 
counts the  services  and  disdains  the  years. 
The  veteran  lover  has  another  advantage.    He 


128  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

is  established  in  the  sense  of  history.  Visions 
that  brighten  life  for  a  moment  and  then  vanish 
like  the  fires  of  morning  in  the  east  greatly  dis- 
courage youth.  Deferred  hope,  postponed  fulfill- 
ment, makes  the  heart  of  the  youthful  idealist 
sick.  The  descent  of  the  ideal  into  human  exist- 
ence is  as  slow  as  the  descent  of  the  glacier.  This 
is  a  discouragement  to  youth.  It  was  the  youth- 
ful prophet  who  cried,  "  O  Lord,  how  long ! " 
The  peril  of  every  successive  generation  of  youth 
is  here.  The  thirst  of  young  life  is  for  immediate 
realizations.  Eonian  fulfillments  through  eonian 
struggle  take  the  moral  heart  and  hope  out  of 
thousands.  The  sun  is  up ;  why  should  it  not 
ripen  the  grain  before  sunset  ?  The  ideal  of  bro- 
therhood is  here ;  why  should  it  not  at  once 
mature  the  whole  race  in  love  ?  This  postponed 
fidfillment  quenches  the  light  of  the  ideal  in 
multitudes  of  the  young.  Thus  the  multitudes 
forsook  Jesus ;  thus  they  abandon  his  cause  to- 
day. The  hunger  for  immediacy  overcomes  them. 
They  gladly  entertain  the  vision  of  Christ ;  they 
are  unequal  to  the  service  and  the  patience  of 
Christ. 

Here  the  older  lover  makes  a  great  return  to 
the  younger.  The  mills  of  the  gods  grind  slow ; 
the  years  bring  one  into  that  sorrowful  con- 
sciousness. The  mills  of  the  gods  grind  slow,  but 
they  grind  exceeding  small ;  time  brings  one  into 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND   TIME  129 

the  happy  sense  of  this  inevitable  process  of  the 
Eternal  spirit.  We  look  backward  to-day  as 
men  in  other  days  were  unable  to  do.  The  vista 
of  history  is  immensely  extended.  And  the  vet- 
eran lover  surveys  this  immeasurable  field  with 
chastened  joy.  He  sees  on  the  far  horizon  a  race 
made  but  little  above  the  beast  of  the  field.  He 
watches  the  advance.  It  is  out  of  the  brutal  state 
into  something  better  ;  it  is  up  from  the  savage 
into  the  barbarian ;  it  is  away  from  the  barbarian 
into  some  rude  form  of  civilization.  The  move- 
ment sways  to  this  side  and  again  to  that ;  some- 
times there  is  demoralization  and  temporary 
retreat.  The  advance  is,  however,  soon  renewed. 
Impediments  are  shed  in  the  successive  epochs,  in 
the  successive  stages  of  the  march.  The  man  is 
advancing,  the  brute  is  retreating.  And  our  vet- 
eran lover  is  a  being  who  looks  "  before  and  after." 
The  backward  look  has  become  a  vast  justifica- 
tion of  hope.  Behind  the  sheep  is  the  shepherd 
driving  his  flock  toward  the  uplands.  The  sheep 
that  hitherto  have  been  driven  are  here  and  there 
beginning  to  see  the  goal,  here  and  there  they  are 
in  headlong  pursuit  of  it.  Instinct  and  moral 
necessity  are  issuing,  in  the  leading  communities 
of  mankind,  in  insight  and  choice.  The  race 
under  compulsion  is  becoming  the  race  under 
freedom ;  the  shepherd  is  appearing  in  the  van 
of  his  flock,  and  his  sheep  know  his  voice.    Some 


130  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

day  the  weary  epoch  of  approach  upon  brother- 
hood by  impulsion  will  become  the  happy  epoch 
of  advance  by  attraction.  The  slow  movement 
under  constraint  will  yet  issue  in  the  eager,  vic- 
torious rush  for  the  summits  of  human  good. 

This  is  the  vision  of  the  older  lover.  He  knows 
something  of  the  greatness  of  history.  Into  this 
sense  of  the  humanizing  process  of  time  he  has 
come ;  therefore  he  is  undismayed.  When  it  was 
the  single  human  course  that  he  was  considering, 
he  was  like  one  watching  the  ascent  of  a  solitary 
star.  Now  he  is  thinking  of  the  race,  and  it  is 
as  if  he  were  watching  the  slow  ascent  of  a  con- 
stellation. Perhaps  it  is  Orion  gleaming  through 
the  smoke  of  the  city  from  the  south ;  perhaps 
it  is  the  Wain  defining  its  starry  order  through 
the  vapors  of  evening  on  the  north.  Here  not  a 
single  star,  but  a  system  of  stars,  must  rise.  Now 
they  are  veiled  from  sight,  and  again  they  show 
their  bright  faces.  Here  one  seems  victorious ; 
there  the  rest  of  the  group  seem  lost.  Is  the 
salvation  only  of  the  remnant?  Are  those  stars 
in  the  belt  of  Orion  alone  to  go  on  ?  Are  those 
two  in  the  Wain  that  look  up  to  their  shining 
comrade  in  the  north  alone  to  ascend?  As  the 
mists  rise  and  fall,  as  the  clouds  come  and  go, 
it  seems  a  doubtful  case  for  this  constellation  and 
that.  But  the  night  grows  clearer,  the  hours  move 
forward,  and  the  watcher  beholds  each  group 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND   TIME  131 

becoming  more  resplendent.  The  heavens  are 
half  sealed ;  the  zenith  is  yet  afar  off,  but  the 
way  to  it  is  open  and  fair,  and  the  ascent  is  sure. 
Such  is  the  vision  of  the  veteran  lover  con- 
cerning the  brotherhood  of  man.  He  sees  the 
obstacles  in  the  way  ;  but  they  are  the  mountain- 
tops,  the  earthly  vapors,  the  flying  clouds,  that 
only  seem  to  cross  and  obstruct  the  path  of  the 
serene,  ascending  stars. 

The  veteran  lover  has  a  yet  greater  advantage. 
The  younger  lover  has  God  with  him  and  hardly 
knows  it.  The  older  lover  has  God  with  him 
and  rests  his  cause  upon  God.  There  is  something 
very  noble  in  the  love  that  is  conscious  only  of 
itseK,  that  notes  neither  time  nor  toil.  Jacob  lost 
in  the  pure  delight  of  loving,  and  unconscious 
both  of  the  years  and  their  burden,  is  a  picture 
of  infinite  charm.  It  is  a  mood  precious  and  full 
of  power ;  it  is  not  the  highest  mood,  nor  is  it 
possessed  of  the  highest  power.  The  lover,  so 
the  Apostle  John  tells  us,  is  born  of  God,  "  for 
God  is  love."  And  the  older  lover  looks  to  the 
Eternal  source  of  his  being  and  his  hope.  He 
passes  over  to  the  side  of  the  Divine  lover ;  he 
learns  to  live  and  to  work  with  God. 

Here,  surely,  is  a  fundamental  difference  be- 
tween youth  and  maturity.  Youth  is  self-suffi- 
cient, nobly  so.  It  is  conscious  of  vision  and 
power ;  it  is  stiU  the  morning  hour.    The  work 


132  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

to  be  done  is  great ;  but  the  strength  is  great, 
and  the  hour  is  at  hand.  Freedom,  obligation, 
responsibility,  personal  achievement,  the  large 
plan,  the  confident  campaign,  the  restless,  rush- 
ing energy,  the  boundless  and  urgent  hope,  the 
kingdom  of  God  at  hand,  —  these  are  the  great 
notes  of  youth.  Let  them  ring  forth  from  every 
new  generation  of  youth.  They  blend  in  a  great 
song  of  faith  for  mankind. 

Maturity  makes  a  different  contribution.  The 
consciousness  of  power  is  less  keen,  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  work  to  be  done  is  deeper.  The  sense 
of  the  self-reliant  soul  passes  into  the  sense  of 
the  trustworthy  God.  The  refrain  comes  to  be, 
"  Not  by  might,  nor  by  power,  but  by  my  spirit, 
saith  the  Lord."  The  sense  of  a  world-plan, 
the  sense  of  history  within  this  world-plan,  the 
consciousness  of  the  Eternal  power  not  our- 
selves that  makes  for  righteousness,  the  vision  of 
the  Infinite  lover  of  men,  —  these  are  the  notes 
of  the  older  believers.  They  blend  in  a  psalm  ; 
and  in  return  for  the  song  of  the  youthful  lover, 
this  psalm  is  sent  back  from  the  heart  of  the 
veteran  lover.  Here  men  rely  less  on  the  light  of 
this  day,  and  more  on  the  sun  that  will  endlessly 
renew  the  day.  This  day  must  end,  it  must  end 
soon ;  and  when  it  is  done  the  work  will  still  re- 
main unfinished.  The  day  is  brief  for  the  youth- 
ful lover  because   of  his    joy    in   his   beloved ; 


LIFE  AND  LOVE  AND   TIME  133 

the  day  is  brief  for  the  veteran  lover  because  so 
much  remains  to  be  done  for  his  beloved.  Both 
lovers  meet  in  the  sense  of  the  brevity,  the 
nothingness  of  time ;  but  they  meet  in  different 
moods.  Jacob  with  Rachel  to  love  laughs  at 
time ;  Jacob  blessing  his  sons  at  the  end  of  life, 
with  part  of  his  human  treasure  on  earth  and 
part  in  the  unseen,  looks  upon  time  with  serious 
eyes. 

The  victory  of  love  over  time  is  easy  until 
time  brings  up  his  dark  ally,  death.  For  the 
conflict  of  love  and  time  issues  in  the  conflict  of 
love  and  death.  And  it  is  here  that  the  v^eteran 
lover  is  strong.  He  has  gone  to  the  source  of 
his  own  love ;  he  has  ascended  to  the  spring  of 
all  the  love  that  has  blessed  his  days.  His  trea- 
sure has  driven  him  to  God  for  protection. 
He  has  risen  into  the  presence  of  the  Eternal 
love,  and  into  his  almighty  hands  he  has  com- 
mitted the  burden  of  his  heart,  and  the  burden 
of  all  hearts. 

"  Love  is  and  was  my  lord  and  king, 
And  in  his  presence  I  attend 
To  hear  the  tidings  of  my  friend, 
Which  every  hour  his  couriers  bring. 

"  Love  is  and  was  my  king  and  lord, 
And  will  be,  tho'  as  yet  I  keep 
Within  his  court  on  earth,  and  sleep 
Encompass'd  by  his  faithful  guard. 


134  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

"  And  hear  at  times  a  sentinel 

Who  moves  about  from  place  to  place, 
And  whispers  to  the  worlds  of  space, 
In  the  deep  night,  that  all  is  well." 

Flight  means  for  the  bird  three  things :  plum- 
age purified,  wings  invigorated,  the  goal  won. 
The  flight  of  time  means  for  the  soul  that  keeps 
alive  within  itself  adoration  of  the  Highest  three 
things  :  humanity  sanctified,  faith  strengthened, 
vision  surer  of  the  coming  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Time  brings  the  philosophic  mind,  leads  the  intel- 
ligence to  the  ultimate  origin  of  the  forces  that 
work  through  life.  Time  carries  the  love  of  man 
up  to  the  love  of  God  as  source,  inspiration,  and 
endless  assurance.  Time  enables  the  faithful  soul 
to  trace  the  beauty  of  the  world  up  to  the  Eternal 
beauty,  to  follow  the  streams  of  human  worth 
up  to  the  Eternal  worth,  and  at  the  close  of  the 
day,  with  the  toil  unfinished  and  the  great  con- 
summation unattained,  to  trust  in  perfect  peace 
our  whole  human  world  —  the  bright  and  dear 
world  of  youth  become  the  vast  and  sacred 
world  of  age  —  to  the  Infinite  lover  of  men. 


VII 
THE  SERVANT  OF  ABRAHAM 

"Ab  for  me,  the  Lord  hath  led  me  in  the  way  to  the  house  of  my  mas- 
ter's brethren." 

Genesii  xxiv,  27. 

We  have  heard  in  our  time  a  great  many  things 
said  against  human  nature.  Indeed,  there  is  an 
immemorial  tradition  against  its  trustworthiness. 
Our  humanity  has  descended  to  us  wrapt  in  a 
cloud  of  scandal  leagues  in  depth,  which  only 
the  wind  of  regeneration  can  disperse.  We  have 
come  to  entertain  serious  suspicions  of  our  hon- 
esty and  of  the  honesty  of  our  fellow  men.  Per- 
haps this  mood  is  not  altogether  without  rea- 
son. Our  behavior  and  the  behavior  of  others 
have  not  always  been  true.  On  this  ground  of 
justifiable  disappointment  with  ourselves  and  our 
friends  we  have  come  to  think  meanly  of  human 
nature.  The  errors,  the  follies,  the  vices,  the 
crimes,  and  the  sins  of  men  are  laid  at  the  door 
of  human  nature.  That  is  the  fountain  of  all 
our  woe.  Corrupted  in  Adam,  or  in  our  pre- 
human ancestors,  or  in  the  polluted  stream 
of  vast  and  regular  inheritance,  we  have  come 
to  think  there  is  no  health  in  us.  Nothing  good 
is  to  be  expected  for  mankind  until  this  cor- 


136  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

rupted  humanity  is  renewed,  re-created,  glorified 
in  God. 

It  requires  some  courage  to  question  the  truth 
of  this  tradition  in  the  face  of  all  the  weaknesses, 
vices,  crimes,  and  inhumanities  that  seem  to  sup- 
port it.  These  terrible  things  are  here  ;  but  they 
should  be  counted,  not  against  human  nature,  but 
against  the  abuse  and  outrage  of  it.  Before  go- 
ing to  Switzerland  I  had  heard  about  the  beauty 
of  the  Rhine.  When  I  first  saw  it,  I  was  greatly 
disappointed.  I  saw  it  again  and  yet  again,  and 
its  character  suffered  still  more  in  my  esteem. 
Its  waters  were  not  simply  turbid ;  they  were 
the  color  of  mud.  They  looked  as  if  they  carried 
dissolved  in  their  tide  the  uncleanness  of  the 
whole  region  through  which  they  flowed.  I  saw 
the  river  once  again,  and  this  time  I  was  fortunate. 
There  it  swept  onward,  green  as  an  emerald,  swift, 
full,  living,  beautiful,  worthy  of  the  awful  heights 
from  which  it  issued,  worthy  of  the  spirit  of 
romance  that  dwells  on  its  banks,  its  sleepless 
current  matching  well  the  Watch  on  the  Rhine, 
worthy  of  the  sea  toward  which  it  went  on  its 
way  singing.  Unfortunate  experiences  have  led 
men  to  think  poorly  of  human  nature.  One-sided 
views  have  led  men  to  elaborate  the  scheme  of 
the  innate  depravity  of  the  race.  The  stream  of 
our  humanity  discolored  in  the  freshet  of  selfish- 
ness has  stood  for  the  whole  character  of  the 


TBE  SERVANT  OF  ABRAHAM  137 

stream.  In  this  way  it  has  come  to  be  an  accepted 
truth  that  the  unrenewed  man  is  at  heart  a  villain. 
He  may  be  unconvicted ;  he  may  be  unconvict- 
able ;  all  the  same  the  vicious  nature  is  there. 

Agrainst  all  this  it  must  be  said  that  human 
nature  is  the  greatest  thing  we  know.  When  we 
condemn  ourselves,  when  we  judge  adversely  our 
fellow  men,  we  do  so  in  the  light  of  the  ideal  that 
shines  in  our  own  nature.  When  we  complain 
of  the  mysterious  order  of  the  world,  when  we 
arraign  the  dumb  indifference  of  the  cosmos  to 
human  need,  when  we  confess  to  a  great  moral 
disappointment  as  we  survey  the  law  of  life  and 
death  under  which  we  exist,  we  are  searching 
in  the  universe  for  something  as  good  and  high 
as  the  soul  of  man.  When  we  look  for  God,  we 
look  for  the  face  that  answers  to  our  face  and 
that  is  infinite,  for  the  nature  that  corresponds 
to  our  nature  and  that  is  eternal.  When  we  look 
for  God,  we  look  for  something,  for  some  one,  wor- 
thy of  the  complete  love  and  the  perfect  trust 
of  our  humanity.  We  condemn  ourselves  and 
others,  we  arraign  the  cosmos,  we  seek  God,  be- 
cause our  nature  is  great  and  high ;  our  nature 
is  great  and  high  because  God  is  evermore  in 
it.  This  is  what  regeneration  means ;  it  is  the 
renunciation  of  the  godless  life  as  false  to  our 
humanity ;  it  is  the  affirmation  of  the  life  in 
God  as  the  truth  of  our  existence  as  men. 


138  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

When  I  think  of  the  civilization  that  has  come 
out  of  the  mind  and  character  of  man,  I  cannot 
but  confess  the  majesty  of  human  nature.  The 
race  started  with  nothing,  and  with  a  heavy 
inheritance  from  the  animal.  Out  of  this  brute- 
encumbered  humanity  came  ideals  for  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  personal,  domestic,  social,  indus- 
trial, and  political  life  of  men.  The  ideals  have 
grown  into  more  and  better ;  and  in  their  strength 
the  race  has  risen  out  of  the  depths  up  on  to  the 
heights.  Science,  art,  philosophy,  and  religion 
have  arisen  out  of  human  nature  to  serve  human 
existence.  Great,  surely,  is  the  nature  out  of 
which  these  worlds  of  high  and  wondrous  and 
serviceable  thoughts  have  come.  We  owe  to 
human  nature  all  that  we  possess.  Man  is  made 
by  the  entrance  of  God  into  the  animal ;  the 
history  of  man  is  the  record  of  immeasurable 
achievement,  of  immeasurable  sacrifice,  of  im- 
measurable hope,  and  of  dauntless  courage  in  the 
face  of  immeasurable  difficulties.  Christianity  is 
the  sovereign  possession  of  the  race ;  and  it  is 
the  product  of  the  humanity  of  Jesus  Christ. 
When  we  read  our  nature  and  the  nature  of 
our  feUow  men  in  the  presence  of  the  humanity 
of  Jesus,  we  cease  to  accuse  the  Maker  of  it,  we 
no  longer  blaspheme  God's  order  in  the  soul  and 
his  perpetual  presence  in  it,  we  behold  in  awe 
and  in  penitence  the  Holy  Ghost  moving  in  the 


THE  SERVANT  OF  ABRAHAM  139 

living  stream  of  our  being.  For  God  and  man 
are  not  two  but  one;  when  we  separate  our- 
selves from  Him,  we  do  not  follow  our  nature, 
we  depart  from  it,  and  we  sin  against  it.  It  is, 
therefore,  a  fresh  introduction  to  human  nature 
as  it  stands  in  the  vision  of  God  to  look  upon  its 
pure  representatives,  to  behold  it  mirrored  in  the 
clear  morning  traditions  of  a  great  race.  I  am 
persuaded  that  Christianity  is  to  become  the 
religion  of  man,  because  it  is  the  sovereign  ex- 
pression of  the  humanity  in  which  God  lives. 

It  is  a  study  in  human  nature  to  which  we  are 
introduced  by  the  words  of  the  text.  The  words 
are  the  words  of  the  servant  of  Abraham.  They 
present  a  piece  of  humanity  worthy  of  serious  con- 
sideration, and  illustrative  of  the  richness  and 
truth  of  which  human  nature  is  everywhere  capa- 
ble. This  servant  of  Abraham  is  an  expounder 
of  the  nature  that  we  wear,  an  example  of  the 
religious  use  of  existence,  an  inspiration  to  all 
high,  disinterested,  and  peaceful  bearing  toward 
the  Infinite  and  toward  men. 

The  twenty- fourth  chapter  of  the  Book  of  Gen- 
esis is  one  of  the  loveliest  stories  ever  written  by 
the  hand  of  man.  Those  of  you  who  are  familiar 
with  it  will  wish  to  read  it  again.  Those  of  you 
who  have  never  read  it  have  in  store  a  delightful 
experience.  The  chapter  is  complete  in  itself. 
Every  word  in  it  is  as  pure  as  a  dewdrop,  and 


140  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

the  whole  story  shines  with  the  peace  and  lofty 
light  of  a  star.  Every  lover  of  youth  must  feel 
the  beauty  of  it,  the  delicacy  of  it,  its  exquisite 
and  rare  touch.  Every  one  who  reveres  noble 
parenthood  must  feel  its  pathos  and  dignity. 

Let  us  recall  the  outline  of  the  story.  Abra- 
ham is  an  old  man,  and  his  end  is  near.  He  has 
one  bright,  prophetic  son.  His  lovely  mother  has 
been  laid  to  rest.  In  this  bright  image  of  that 
vanished  soul  all  the  old  man's  love  and  hope  are 
centred.  The  son  is  of  age,  and  the  time  has 
come  for  him  to  found  a  home  of  his  own.  The 
venerable  father,  infirm  and  with  the  feeling  of 
death  creeping  over  him,  aware  that  he  cannot 
much  longer  guide  the  career  of  his  prophetic  son, 
calls  his  faithful  servant,  and  asks  him  to  put  his 
hand  under  his  master's  thigh  and  swear  that  he 
will  not  take  a  wife  for  his  son  from  the  daughters 
of  Canaan.  They  are  sensuous,  and  wholly  so. 
They  are  base-minded.  They  are  without  great 
ideals.  They  live  from  hand  to  mouth,  immersed 
in  sense  and  time,  with  no  vision  of  the  future, 
with  no  clear  consciousness  of  the  sacred  office 
of  their  humanity,  with  no  controlling  and  trans- 
figuring religious  passion  and  hope.  Go  to  the 
home  of  my  kindred  far  away  in  Mesopotamia. 
There  my  brother  has  a  child  pure  and  exalted 
as  my  son.  Ask  that  fair  cousin  to  come  and  join 
her  destiny  with  that  of  my  boy.    Then  comes  the 


THE  SERVANT  OF  ABRAHAM  141 

touch  of  humor  in  the  heart  of  the  deepest  and 
tenderest  seriousness,  the  humor  that  shows  how 
little  human  nature  in  its  essential  features  has 
changed  in  the  course  of  the  ages.  The  old  ser- 
vant is  willing  to  swear,  and  he  is  willing  to  go 
on  the  rather  uncertain  errand,  but  he  mildly  sug- 
gests :  Perhaps  the  young  woman  will  not  come ! 
The  father  sees  at  once  the  point  of  this  sugges- 
tion, and  he  replies :  Well,  if  she  does  not  come, 
you  will  be  clear  of  your  oath.  But  God  will 
send  his  angel  and  dispose  her  to  come.  This  is 
one  of  those  high  friendships  that  are  made  in 
heaven,  that  are  created  in  human  hearts  by  the 
breath  of  God.    Go  and  see. 

I  cannot  pursue  the  story  further.  It  all  turned 
out  with  complete  success,  and  with  exquisite 
beauty,  and  according  to  the  religious  vision  and 
faith  of  the  father.  There  was  the  long  jour- 
ney ;  the  unslackening  perseverance ;  the  time 
at  which  the  company  arrived  at  its  destination, 
the  time  at  which  the  young  women  came  out 
to  water  the  flocks ;  the  beautiful  picture  of 
Rebecca  at  the  weU,  her  sweet  courtesy,  the  depth 
and  grace  of  Eastern  hospitality,  the  grave  dig- 
nity and  high  manner  of  the  servant.  There  was 
the  quiet  joy  of  that  home  to  which  the  message 
was  delivered,  the  turning  over  of  the  question 
for  Rebecca  to  answer,  the  appeal  of  the  parents 
for  delay,  the  insistence  of  the  victorious  servant 


142  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

upon  dispatch,  and  the  long,  prosperous,  happy 
journey  back.  But  I  must  send  you  to  the  story 
as  told  by  the  inspired  writer.  It  is  one  of  the 
fairest  poetic  pictures  of  domestic  life,  touched 
and  transfigured  by  love,  lifted  and  glorified  by 
religion,  that  is  to  be  found  in  the  records  of 
mankind. 

We  return  to  the  servant.  In  him  we  find 
seriousness  and  humor,  prompt  and  intelligent 
obedience,  the  mind  to  entertain  a  clear  purpose 
and  the  will  to  carry  it  into  complete  realization, 
the  fine  sense  of  subordination  and  the  high 
feeling  of  self-respect,  the  power  of  command, 
the  gift  of  gracious  speech,  the  character  to  in- 
spire confidence,  the  force  that  cannot  be  di- 
verted from  its  goal,  the  honor  that  stands  guard 
over  the  fair  young  woman  committed  to  his 
care,  and  the  absolute  disinterestedness  of  a  soul 
that  has  but  two  fundamental  desires,  one  the 
desire  to  serve,  the  other  the  desire  to  serve  well. 

This  delightful  person  describes  in  a  strange 
way  the  conditions  of  his  success.  He  says  that 
he  went,  and  he  says  that  he  was  led.  "  As  for 
me,  the  Lord  hath  led  me  in  the  way  to  the  house 
of  my  master's  brethren."  These  two  ideas  did 
not  seem  to  him  to  be  incompatible.  Indeed,  they 
seemed  essential  to  the  great  and  happy  expe- 
rience through  which  he  had  passed.  On  the 
one  side,  everything  seemed  to  come  by  Divine 


THE  SERVANT  OF  ABRAHAM  143 

guidance  and  help ;  on  the  other,  human  wis- 
dom, effort,  and  fidelity  were  assumed  as  indis- 
pensable. The  two  forces  that  brought  success 
were  the  strenuous,  self-dedicated  soul,  and  the 
sense  of  God's  help  in  this  faithful  soul.  Look 
for  a  moment  at  this  commanding  combination. 

Here  is  a  man  who  sets  his  heart  upon  suc- 
cess in  business.  That  shining  goal  of  business 
success  stands  out  before  him  bright  and  allur- 
ing. How  can  it  be  gained?  In  the  first  place, 
he  must  join  his  race  doing  business  in  the  world. 
No  man  can  make  business  successful  all  by 
himself.  Isolation  from  the  trade  of  the  world 
means  failure.  A  man  must  be  where  he  can 
buy  from  others  and  sell  to  others,  where  he 
can  work  with  others.  He  must  stand  in  the 
great  centres  of  trade,  he  must  be  joined  to 
his  kind,  if  he  would  succeed.  And  more  than 
that,  he  must  in  fellowship  with  his  kind  do 
his  best.  Here  is  a  piece  of  work  to  be  done. 
He  must  do  it  with  all  his  might.  He  is 
working  for  a  certain  firm  ;  he  must  think  and 
feel  and  work  as  if  that  firm  were  his  own. 
There  is  a  man  in  the  path  of  success.  Then 
comes  the  flood,  then  come  the  opportunities,  the 
appreciations,  the  rewards,  the  sense  that  he  is 
essential  to  the  business  that  he  is  serving,  and 
the  man  is  carried  on  toward  success.  Shake- 
speare says : — 


144  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

"  There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men, 
Which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune." 

That  is  true  only  upon  condition  that  the  busi- 
ness man  is  first  of  all  in  union  with  the  business 
world,  and  that,  in  the  very  best  meaning  of  the 
phrase,  he  is  there  for  all  that  he  is  worth. 

Look  at  this  essential  combination  in  educa- 
tion. A  man  sets  before  him  as  the  aim  of  his 
spirit  an  educated  mind.  That  goal  shines  in  the 
distance  and  commands  his  desire  and  excites 
his  hope.  But  he  can  never  become  an  educated 
man  in  separation  from  his  kind.  A  mere  star- 
gazer,  a  moonstruck  person,  one  wandering 
alone  in  fields  studying  flowers,  looking  upon 
brooks  and  streams,  lifting  his  eyes  abroad  upon 
the  vacant  earth  and  up  toward  the  vacant  sky, 
dwelling  aloof  from  mankind,  cannot  compass 
a  cultivated  mind.  The  path  to  education  is 
first  of  all  through  fellowship  with  one's  kind. 
Think  what  a  child  learns  from  its  child  contem- 
poraries. Think  what  a  precious  and  indispen- 
sable part  of  its  education  comes  through  play, 
through  dreams,  through  high  fictions,  through 
the  make-believe  social  world,  through  the  amaz- 
ing conversations  and  communions  of  child  with 
child  all  over  the  broad  earth.  When  the  child 
becomes  youth,  its  contemporaries  again  are 
its  educators.  Youth  plays  upon  youth  through 
imagination,  sympathy,  and  all  subtle  instincts ; 


THE  SERVANT  OF  ABRAHAM  145 

and  again  there  is  a  fresh  development  of  intel- 
lectual power.  When  teachers  are  sought,  what 
does  that  mean  ?  It  means  that  the  single  human 
being  is  putting  himself  in  league  with  the  older 
generation,  with  the  wiser,  larger,  better  mind 
there.  When  it  is  a  call  for  books,  the  same  prin- 
ciple holds.  What  are  books  ?  The  most  living 
things  in  the  world.  As  Milton  said,  they  are 
the  precious  life-blood  of  the  master  spirits  of 
mankind.  When  you  read  the  pages  of  a  great 
book  you  are  in  communion  with  a  great  mind. 
Thus  we  see  that  education  at  every  point  implies 
fellowship  with  the  minds  of  other  men  in  a  rising 
order  of  wisdom  and  power.  And  the  person  who 
is  in  communion  with  the  mind  of  the  world 
must  again  do  his  best.  It  is  not  enough  for  the 
child  to  be  among  children,  for  youth  to  be  with 
youth,  for  the  younger  generation  to  be  in  the 
presence  of  the  great  and  wise  of  the  older  gen- 
eration, or  to  have  near  them  the  highest  books 
of  the  world.  There  must  be  individual  alert- 
ness, receptivity,  docility,  eagerness,  passion, 
persistence,  the  throwing  open  of  the  whole 
mind  to  the  high  object  in  devouring  desire. 
What  is  the  chief  value,  from  an  educational 
view,  of  that  wonderful  book  "  Up  from  Slav- 
ery "  ?  It  is  an  entertaining,  it  is  a  marvelously 
human  book.  What  is  its  philosophical  value  ? 
It   is   this.    It  shows   the   desperate   effort  of 


146  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

an  eager  soul  to  get  out  of  the  impotence  of 
its  own  isolation,  the  desperate  endeavor  of 
a  poor,  starved  life  to  get  into  fellowship  with 
the  great,  resourceful  and  powerful  race  of  man. 
When  Booker  T.  Washington  got  to  Hampton, 
he  knew  that  he  had  reached  the  point  where 
he  could  touch  the  soul  of  the  world,  where  he 
could  feel  the  soul  of  the  world  passing  into 
him.  His  education  was  assured  the  moment 
that  his  weary  feet  crossed  the  threshold  of  that 
benign  institution. 

We  are  now  ready  for  the  application  of  our 
principle  to  the  life  of  the  spirit.  How  can  one 
acquire  a  noble  character  ?  How  can  one  secure 
the  exaltation  and  refinement  of  one's  human- 
ity? How  can  one  realize  within  the  soul  the 
best  that  God  has  made  possible  for  the  soul  ? 
That  is  the  great  question  before  us.  And  this 
much  is  clear,  that  it  cannot  be  done  in  isolation 
from  the  best  life  of  our  time,  from  the  highest 
endeavor  of  the  world,  from  the  Holy  Spirit  in 
human  history. 

1.  In  this  servant  of  Abraham  there  was 
first  of  all  the  aim,  the  errand.  This  old  servant 
undertook  a  long  journey,  a  journey  from  the 
Mediterranean  sea-coast  to  Mesopotamia.  But 
the  goal  was  before  him  from  the  first.  He 
knew  what  he  wanted,  and  his  life  was  commanded 
by  the  thing  that  he  wanted.    His  was  not  an 


THE  SERVANT  OF  ABRAHAM  147 

aimless,  errandless  life.  It  had  a  path  as  definite 
as  the  channel  of  the  river,  a  goal  as  sure  as  the 
sea  toward  which  the  river  moves.  That  aim, 
that  errand,  was  the  beginning  of  the  servant's 
significant  humanity. 

As  I  watch  the  lives  of  men,  older  and 
younger  alike,  the  gravest  defect  I  find  at  this 
point.  On  the  serious  side  of  existence  men 
are  largely  without  aim.  What  becomes  of  the 
stream  that  cannot  find  a  channel,  that  has  for- 
gotten its  fountain,  that  has  lost  its  vision  of  the 
sea  whither  it  is  bound  ?  It  becomes  a  swamp, 
a  breeder  of  disease,  a  disseminator  of  death. 
And  the  man  who  has  no  sense  of  having  come 
from  God,  no  sense  of  an  errand  in  life,  no 
sense  of  a  quest  for  what  is  worthy  and  endur- 
ing; the  man  who  is  aimless  and  errandless 
as  a  moral  being,  is  a  human  swamp,  a  gener- 
ator of  the  plague  that  curses  mankind.  The 
day  cannot  begin  until  the  sun  is  risen ;  man- 
hood cannot  begin  until  the  will  is  up  in  a  great 
resolve,  until  the  soul  is  pursuing  a  great  end. 

2.  We  must  note  the  beauty  of  the  end 
toward  which  that  old  servant  journeyed.  He 
traveled  that  he  might  bring  that  lovely  cousin 
from  between  the  two  rivers  to  the  shores  of  the 
Mediterranean.  The  Greeks  had  an  alluring 
conception  of  the  Muses.  They  were  nine  in 
number,  supernatural  in  grace,  all  beauty,  all 


148  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

purity,  all  joy.  What  did  these  immortal  women 
represent?  Beautiful  ideals,  beautiful  ends,  to 
be  striven  after,  to  be  served,  and  in  some 
measure  secured.  When  Herodotus  wrote  his 
wonderful  history,  he  wrote  it  in  nine  books 
to  correspond  to  the  nine  Muses.  Every  book 
had  hovering  over  it  one  of  these  exquisite 
superhuman  figures,  an  ideal  commanding  the 
historian  at  his  task.  His  whole  work  rose  up 
in  love  and  sincerity  as  an  offering  to  the  ideal. 
And  if  the  father  of  history  could  see  an  ideal 
through  a  work  of  art,  may  we  not  see  in  that 
fair  life  between  the  two  great  rivers  the  beauty 
of  heart,  the  grace  of  spirit,  the  dignity  of 
nature,  the  glowing,  prophetic  humanity  which 
God  made  us  to  behold,  to  pursue,  and  finally  to 
possess?  Beautiful  is  the  errand  of  the  soul, 
fair  and  high  is  the  end  of  man.  Ye  shall  be 
perfect,  as  your  heavenly  Father  is  perfect.  Be 
ye  imitators  of  God  as  dear  children.  Look  up 
into  the  heights  of  your  humanity,  and  you  will 
see  splendors  that  put  to  shame  the  starry  sky. 

3.  There  was  the  romance  of  the  servant's 
errand.  We  must  think  of  him  traveling  those 
seven  hundred  miles  singing  every  morning  and 
every  evening.  He  was  on  an  errand  of  love ; 
fountains  were  playing  in  his  heart,  and  birds 
were  singing  beside  them. 

There  have  been  many  souls  in  history  who 


THE  SERVANT  OF  ABRAHAM  149 

have  sought  the  Lord  in  this  way.  And  I  regret 
to  add  that  there  have  been  multitudes  of  those 
for  whom  the  search  for  godhness,  the  quest  for 
a  sacred  existence,  for  the  beauty  of  the  Lord  our 
God,  has  been  a  dismal  enterprise.  Such  carica- 
tures of  the  highest  human  mood  we  have  seen 
and  we  have  deplored.  There  is  no  darker  or 
sadder  shadow  cast  upon  the  loveliness  of  man's 
supreme  privilege  than  that  which  is  cast  by 
these  deplorable  persons.  Think  not  of  them,  but 
of  their  opposites.  Think  of  the  souls  that  have 
found  the  sovereign  romance  of  existence  in  seek- 
ing and  in  serving  God.  Think  of  Paul  traveling 
over  the  whole  civilized  world  of  his  time,  with 
the  light  of  eagerness  in  his  eyes,  with  the  sense 
of  a  sublime  romance  in  his  heart,  seeking  every- 
where the  Eternal  grace,  the  Lifinite  love.  What- 
ever may  happen  to  the  outward  life,  however 
we  may  fail  or  succeed  there,  let  us  keep  our 
hearts  forever  young,  forever  singing  on  our  way 
to  God,  traveling  in  the  dawn,  under  the  heat 
of  noon,  and  in  the  dusk  of  evening  on  a  high 
behest,  with  the  gladness  of  a  great  and  gracious 
enterprise  in  our  souls,  and  with  the  sense  of  a 
vast  and  sacred  romance  upholding  our  lives. 

I  must  pause  here  to  remind  you  that  the  goal, 
the  lovely  goal,  the  divinely  romantic  goal,  can  be 
found  only  along  the  royal  road.  We  cannot  find 
it  in  the  saloon,  in  the  gambling  den,  in  the  paths 


150  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

of  shame.  The  beautiful  Mesopotamian  maiden 
lives  not  there.  The  ideal  for  which  she  stands 
to  us  does  not  shine  over  those  dark  waters,  over 
those  hideous  wastes ;  nor  over  the  low  book,  the 
vile  companion,  nor  over  the  ways  devious  and 
ugly  that  tempt  youth  to  depart  from  honor. 
The  church  stands  for  all  those  forces  of  wis- 
dom, sentiment,  prayer,  and  mystic  response 
from  the  Highest  that  take  the  seeker  after  God 
into  the  fellowship  of  man  at  his  best,  that  pour 
upon  him  the  power  of  an  availing  humanity.  Let 
the  seeker  after  the  highest  for  himself  and  his 
kind  journey  not  alone  ;  let  him  fare  forward  in 
the  great  chorus  of  a  singing  humanity,  in  the 
great  concert  of  the  prophetic  minds  of  history, 
in  the  mighty  fellowship  of  the  kings  and  priests, 
the  heroes  and  saints,  of  mankind.  In  that  vast 
and  inspired  communion  the  individual  resolve 
will  become  like  the  inevitable  wiU  of  God. 

As  we  part  from  this  noble  servant  of  a  great 
man,  we  see  again  the  clean  and  high  and  peace- 
ful heart  in  which  true  service  forever  issues. 
The  man  who  took  the  oath  of  service  and  kept 
it,  whose  errand  was  unselfish  from  the  beginning 
to  the  end,  when  he  returned  in  the  triumph  of 
an  accomplished  mission,  handed  over  to  his 
master's  son  the  vision  of  beauty  that  rode  by 
his  side  those  seven  hundred  immortal  mUes,  and 
went  his  way  in  silence,  but  with  the  sense  of 


THE  SERVANT  OF  ABRAHAM  151 

honor  in  his  heart,  and  the  deep  and  dear  con- 
tent which  they  gain  who  serve  God  well,  and 
who  are  true  in  the  great  and  small  things  alike 
to  their  solemn  obligation  to  man. 

We  go  our  several  ways  through  time.  Again 
and  again  we  part  from  high  friends.  We  seem 
to  be  left  alone  at  last.  But  when  we  serve  with 
truth,  run  our  errand  with  honor,  bring  some 
work  of  beauty  to  its  fair  consummation,  and 
pass  into  silence,  and  out  of  sight  of  men,  we  are 
not  forsaken.  Our  nature  is  alive  with  the  great, 
singing,  prophetic  voices  of  our  service.  The 
dignity  of  farewell  is  the  note  of  the  humanity 
that  God  has  made  self-sufficing.  The  disin- 
terested soul  is  the  supreme  possession ;  the 
benignity  of  history,  the  beauty  of  the  Lord 
our  God,  the  grace  of  Jesus  Christ,  goes  with  it. 
The  last  and  highest  beatitude  in  this  world 
of  the  faithful  seeker  after  God  and  servant  of 
man  is  an  honorable  soul,  a  great,  rich,  singing 
human  heart,  the  power  to  go  one's  way  in  dear 
memory,  in  devout  hope,  in  deep  and  divine 
content. 


VIII 
THE  UNTROUBLED  HEART 

Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled :  believe  in  God,  belleye  also  in  me. 

John  xiv,  1. 

Man's  great  and  proper  human  interests  are 
his  treasure  and  his  burden.  They  are  his  joy 
and  they  are  his  sorrow.  You  see  a  hen  and 
her  brood.  There  you  have  man  and  his  essential 
and  dear  human  interests.  The  brood  are  the 
delight  of  the  mother  bird ;  they  are  also  her 
dismay.  Their  safety  is  her  peace  ;  their  peril  is 
her  trouble.  And  her  poor  heart  is  seldom  free 
from  dread,  for  out  there  in  the  field  the  hawk 
may  at  any  moment  appear.  The  brood  are  so 
heedless,  and  her  sheltering  wings  are  so  insuffi- 
cient. 

Who  does  not  see  in  this  image  a  picture 
of  his  own  life?  Certain  things,  certain  causes, 
above  all,  certain  persons,  are  inexpressibly  dear 
to  him.  They  are  the  living  extensions  of  his  own 
being.  They  are  bone  of  his  bone  and  flesh  of  his 
flesh.  They  are  to  him  fairer  and  dearer  than 
his  own  life.  He  goes  abroad  with  them  in  the 
fields  of  time.  They  are  his  delight  and  they 
are  his  distress.  They  are  his  delight  because  they 


THE   UNTROUBLED  HEART  153 

make  existence    rich  and  great.     They  are  his 
distress  because  they  are  insecure. 

Here  we  touch  the  deepest  source  of  human 
anxiety.  Love's  alarm  is  the  profoundest  fear. 
It  is  the  recurrent  note  in  all  loving  hearts  in 
all  the  relations  of  life.  Parents  tremble  over 
the  children  of  whom  they  are  fond,  and  when 
children  are  worthy,  they  look  toward  their 
parents  with  a  presentiment  of  trouble.  It  is  so 
with  noble  friend  and  noble  friend  everywhere. 
So  it  was  with  the  disciples.  They  loved  their 
great  Master  with  a  desperate  attachment,  and 
now  he  was  about  to  leave  them.  Oh,  the  possible 
pain  of  a  loving  heart !  How  awful  it  is !  How 
can  we  allow  ourselves  to  love  uncertain  lives 
when  love's  loss  brings  such  inexpressible  pain? 
There  is  a  figure  that  recurs  several  times  in  the 
Old  Testament  that  impresses  one  deeply,  — 
a  bear  robbed  of  her  whelps.  Poor  beast !  who 
does  not  pity  her  ?  Who  does  not  see  working 
through  her  fury  the  elemental  passion  of  love  ? 
If  that  brute  heart  could  speak,  what  a  wail  it 
would  send  forth !  The  desperate  distress  is  all 
unutterable.  Turn  from  the  poor  animal  to  man. 
Watch  the  face  of  King  David  as  he  receives 
the  announcement  of  the  fate  of  Absalom.  "  And 
the  king  was  much  moved,  and  went  up  to  the 
chamber  over  the  gate,  and  wept :  and  as  he 
went,  thus  he  said,  O  my  son  Absalom,  my  son, 


154  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

my  son  Absalom !  would  God  I  had  died  for 
thee,  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son  !  "  What  is 
one  to  do  with  this  fearful  capacity,  this  heart 
that  loves,  that  loses,  that  suffers  ? 

It  must  be  said  that  this  is  no  new  question. 
It  is  the  question  of  our  humanity.  The  most 
urgent  of  all  practical  questions  for  a  loving 
hiunanity  is  this  :  How  can  we  reach  the  beati- 
tude of  the  untroubled  heart?  That  question  is 
old,  it  is  as  old  as  man,  and  I  must  now  mention 
several  great  historic  answers  to  it. 

1.  There  is  the  answer  of  despair,  — curse  God 
and  die.  That  is  one  of  the  oldest  answers,  and 
one  of  the  most  recent.  It  is  the  answer  of  the 
suicide.  From  how  many  defeated  lives  this 
answer  has  gone  forth,  no  tongue  can  tell.  It 
is  indeed  appalling  to  reflect  how  many  hearts 
find  existence  unbearable.  "  End  it  when  you 
will  "  is  for  many  the  only  hope.  Such  despair  is 
indeed  seldom  the  product  of  pure  sorrow.  Sin 
has  brought  ruin  to  character.  Life  has  become 
a  waste  wherein  wander  the  tormenting  presences 
born  of  an  evil  conscience.  Jesus  was  in  the  wil- 
derness tempted  of  the  devil.  He  could  bear  it 
because  he  was  unf  alien  and  true.  These  terrible 
lives  are  themselves  the  wilderness,  and  their 
misdeeds  are  their  sole  and  intolerable  compan- 
ions. Oftener  than  we  think,  this  is  the  history 
of  the  life  that  ends  itself  in  despair.   There  are 


THE   UNTROUBLED  HEART  155 

also  many  cases  where  disease  is  the  cause.  There 
are  not  a  few  overwhekned  with  disaster.  Still, 
there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  refuse  to  look 
at  the  answer,  whether  it  comes  out  of  the  heart 
of  disease,  or  sudden  over-mastering  misfortune, 
or  pure,  irreconcilable  sorrow.  Despair  is  despair. 
Its  answer  is  the  same  :  — 

"  0  length  of  the  intolerable  hours  ! 
O  nights  that  are  as  aeons  of  slow  pain  ! 
O  Time,  too  ample  for  our  vital  powers, 
O  Life  whose  woeful  vanities  remain 
Immutable  for  all  of  all  our  legions 
Thro'  all  the  centuries  and  in  all  the  regions, 
Not  of  your  speed  and  variance  do  we  complain. 
We  do  not  ask  a  longer  term  of  strife, 
Weakness  and  weariness  and  nameless  woes; 
We  do  not  claim  renewed  and  endless  life 
When  this  which  is  our  torment  here  shall  close, 
And  everlasting  conscious  inanition! 
We  yearn  for  speedy  death  in  full  fruition, 
Dateless  oblivion  and  divine  repose." 

Out  of  books  written  in  the  dim  dawn  of  his- 
tory, out  of  books  written  yesterday,  and,  more 
impressive  still,  out  of  thousands  of  human 
hearts  suffering  and  dying  at  our  side,  comes 
this  tremendous,  ageless  answer  of  despair. 

2.  The  Stoic  answer  next  demands  our  atten- 
tion. The  path  to  peace  is  through  apathy.  Let 
aU  strong  desire,  all  affection,  pass  out  of  your 
nature,  as  the  moisture  of  the  earth  evaporates 
under  the  burning  power  of  the  sun.    Under  the 


156  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

heat  of  the  sun  the  earth  becomes  fruitless,  care- 
less dust.  Thus  under  the  influence  of  reason  let 
all  affection,  all  kindness,  aU  fondness,  all  pas- 
sionate attachment  and  devotion  steam  up  out  of 
your  being  until  it  shall  become  as  dead  and  un- 
responsive as  the  desert.  The  desert  can  produce 
nothing  ;  the  apathetic  heart  can  love  nothing. 
No  harvest  ever  disturbs  the  peace  of  the  desert ; 
no  bereavement  ever  distresses  the  loveless  heart. 
Where  nothing  is  loved,  nothing  can  be  lost. 

The  Stoics  at  their  best  were  a  great  race. 
They  were  full  of  composure  and  high  disdain. 
They  accepted  the  humanities,  but  failed  to  under- 
stand them.  They  accepted  them,  and  then  tried 
to  transcend  them.  They  sought  peace  through 
reduction  of  desire.  The  sweet  society  in  which 
the  individual  hujnan  being  is  set  —  the  solitary 
in  families — gave  place  to  stern  individualism. 
Epictetus  seeks  for  personal  freedom.  MarcuS 
Aurelius  seeks  for  the  government  of  his  spirit ; 
but  in  this  noble  quest  affection  dies  a  slow  death. 
The  Stoics  came  to  believe  that  their  hearts  un- 
manned them,  that  tenderness  undermined  their 
strength,  that  aU  sweet  affections  were  in  the 
way,  that  they  must  shed  them  as  impedimenta. 
They  sought  strength,  therefore,  by  the  path  of 
lovelessness.  They  sought  peace  by  parting  with 
their  humanity.  This  is  the  great  mistake  of  the 
Stoics.    It  is  the  mistake  that  many  men  are 


THE    UNTROUBLED  HEART  157 

making  to-day.  We  all  have  seen  young  men  and 
women  going  out  into  life  with  the  most  precious 
of  all  possessions,  a  sympathetic,  sensitive,  pro- 
foundly feeling  human  heart.  We  have  seen  them 
eagerly  and  persistently  devising  ways  and  means 
for  getting  rid  of  their  tenderness,  for  hardening 
the  sensibilities,  for  casting  out  that  painful  but 
divine  capacity  for  attachment.  How  shall  we 
attain  the  untroubled  heart  ?  The  Stoic  answers, 
Through  apathy ;  love  less  and  less  till  sensibility 
shall  pass  away. 

3.  The  next  answer  that  merits  attention  is 
the  Epicurean  answer.  It  is  indeed  strange  that 
the  Greek  word  used  by  our  Master  in  the  text 
is  a  favorite  word  with  Epicurus  and  his  dis- 
ciples. He  uses  the  noun  aTapa^ia,  which  means 
repose,  untroubled  repose,  the  repose  of  the 
untroubled  heart.  This  beatitude  Epicurus  was 
seeking  in  that  old  world,  just  as  we  are  seek- 
ing it  in  this  new  world.  According  to  what  plan 
did  Epicurus  seek  it  ?  The  way  out  of  pain,  he 
contended,  is  by  the  path  of  pleasure.  He  meant 
by  pleasure  not  sympathetic,  social  pleasure,  but 
individual,  egoistic  pleasure,  refined  or  coarse, 
of  the  mind  or  of  the  body,  as  the  case  might 
be.  Personally,  Epicurus  preferred  the  refined 
and  intellectual  pleasure.  The  way  out  of  pain 
is  by  seeking,  each  individual  for  himself,  the 
pleasure  that  gives  him  repose. 


158  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

Does  not  that  sound  very  much  like  a  chap- 
ter from  the  social  life  of  our  time  ?  Epicurus  is 
still  with  us,  and  he  is  far  more  popular  than  the 
Stoic.  For  what  consolation  do  afflicted  people 
seek,  if  they  are  not  noble,  if  they  are  not  com- 
manded by  the  heavenly  vision  ?  They  drown 
grief  in  pleasure.  They  seek  escape  from  them- 
selves, from  their  losses,  from  their  distresses. 
They  drink,  they  gamble,  they  plunge  into  the 
vortex  of  a  dissolute  social  life,  they  spend  their 
hours  of  leisure  in  excess  or  in  devising  new 
excesses.  They  destroy  their  humanity.  For  the 
surest  and  shortest  way  k)  an  empty  and  inhu- 
man heart  is  the  path  of  individual  self-seeking. 

This  immolation  of  humanity,  and  especially 
of  youthful  humanity,  so  occupies  the  vision 
of  serious  lovers  of  their  kind  that  the  motive 
behind  it  is  less  clearly  seen.  The  immolation 
is  indeed  appalling.  The  ruthless  destruction 
of  the  native  outfit  in  fineness  of  feeling,  in 
capacity  for  fond  and  enduring  attachment,  in 
golden  enthusiasm,  in  high  and  tender  hospi- 
tality of  soul,  is  a  calamity.  Burns  is  nowhere 
more  impressive  than  when  he  sings  of  a  certain 
deadly  misdeed  :  — 

"  I  waive  the  quantum  o'  the  sin, 

The  hazard  o'  concealing  ; 

But,  och  !  it  hardens  a'  within, 

An'  petrifies  the  feeling  !  " 


THE  UNTROUBLED  HEART  159 

This  horror  of  a  petrified  humanity  we  see  all 
about  us.  It  is  the  most  serious  thing  that  we 
have  to  face,  this  blight  of  the  race  through 
pleasure  in  the  successive  generations  of  youth. 
For  in  each  successive  generation  of  youth  there 
is  a  fresh  apocalypse  of  God.  Youth  is  a  fresh, 
divine  sunrise  in  humanity,  and  when  all  those 
fires  are  quenched,  when  that  light  is  put  out, 
God  is  in  a  serious  sense  banished  from  the 
contemporaneous  world.  We  live  upon  the  light 
that  was,  upon  the  light  that  shall  be,  but  the 
present  is  overcast  and  heavy  with  gloom. 

This  horror  of  our  generation  and  of  each 
new  generation  should  not  blind  us  to  the  main 
motive  behind  it.  This  world  is  still  a  troubled 
world.  Human  hearts  are  here  doomed  to  much 
suffering.  The  longing  for  relief  from  pain  is 
indestructible,  and  when  misguided  it  drives  men 
and  women  into  fearful  errors.  These  seekers 
after  peace  take  the  wrong  way.  It  is  their  error 
that  brings  destruction. 

"  What,  without  asking,  hither  hurried  Whence  f 
And,  without  asking,  Whither  hurried  hence  1 

Oh,  many  a  Cup  of  this  forbidden  Wine 
Must  drown  the  memory  of  that  insolence  ! 

"  Earth  could  not  answer  ;  nor  the  Seas  that  mourn 
In  flowing  Purple,  of  their  Lord  forlorn  ; 

Nor  rolling  Heaven,  with  all  his  Signs  reveal'd 
And  hidden  by  the  sleeve  of  Night  and  Morn. 


160  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

"  Then  to  the  Lip  of  this  poor  earthen  Urn 
I  lean'd,  the  Secret  of  my  Life  to  learn  : 

And  Lip  to  Lip  it  murmur'd  —  '  While  you  live, 
Drink  !  —  for,  once  dead,  you  never  shall  return.'  " 

Immolate  your  humanity,  and  faith  becomes 
impossible.  Men  believe  in  God  because  of  what 
they  find  in  man.  When  personal  manhood  is 
gone,  the  power  to  see  God  in  the  manhood  of 
the  race  is  greatly  impaired.  By  and  by  the  man- 
hood of  the  race  fades  into  a  legend.  The  reality 
that  remains  is  the  interior  horror  of  the  disso- 
lute soul.  Then  comes  the  quest  for  relief  in 
the  abyss  of  vanities. 

4.  In  the  fourth  place,  there  is  the  Buddhist 
answer.  The  imi  verse  is  against  us.  Fate  is 
everywhere  against  the  lover.  The  universe  has 
decreed  that  everywhere  and  in  all  things  the 
fond,  human  heart  shall  be  defeated,  and  its  hope 
forever  blasted.  The  path  into  peace  is  the  path 
of  quenched,  annihilated  desire.  Give  it  all  up. 
Expect  nothing,  long  for  nothing.  Fast  and 
pray.  Live  in  the  reverent  and  compassionate 
service  of  your  feUow  men.  Reduce  your  being 
to  a  vanishing-point,  and  expire  at  last,  a  desire- 
less  spirit,  in  the  eternal  unconsciousness. 

"  Take  me,  and  lull  me  into  perfect  sleep  ; 

Down,  down,  far-hidden  in  thy  duskiest  cave; 
While  all  the  clamorous  years  above  me  sweep 
Unheard,  or,  like  the  voice  of  seas  that  rave 


THE   UNTROUBLED  HEART  161 

On  far-ofE  coasts,  but  murmuring  o'er  my  trance, 
A  dim  vast  monotone,  that  shall  enhance 
The  restful  rapture  of  the  involate  grave." 

This  mighty  religion,  the  noblest  of  all  faiths 
outside  our  own,  has  no  hope  for  love.  Its  best 
word  to  love  is,  by  the  path  of  compassionate 
service,  to  cease  to  be.  This  is  its  best  word 
and  its  last.  There  is  no  path  to  peace  for  those 
who  love  except  the  path  of  surrender.  Dark 
and  infinite  despair  is  the  thunder-looking  sky 
that  overhangs  millions  of  our  fellow  men  who 
love  and  suffer.  The  universe  has  for  them  no 
sympathy,  no  pity,  no  regard.  The  Eternal  is  not 
on  their  side ;  the  Eternal  is  against  them.  In 
such  straits,  what  can  the  bravest  and  the  deep- 
est-hearted do  but  serve  and  mourn,  pity  and 
pray,  "  lifting  up  dumb  eyes  to  the  silence  of  the 
skies,"  and  by  every  high  and  sweet  device  to 
hasten  the  great  deliverance  :  — 

"  Come,  lead  me  with  thy  terrorless  control 
Down  to  our  mother's  bosom,  there  to  die 

By  abdication  of  my  separate  soul  : 
So  shall  this  single,  self-impelling  piece 
Of  mechanism  from  lone  labor  cease. 

Resolving  into  union  with  the  whole." 

5.  Finally,  there  is  the  Christian  way  into  the 
untroubled  heart.  That  way  is  through  belief  in 
God,  the  Eternal  lover  of  man.  "  BeMeve  in  God, 
believe  also  in  me."    That  is  the  great  imperative. 


162  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

Believe  that  the  universe  is  on  the  side  of  the 
man  who  loves,  that  the  universe  is  our  Father's 
house,  that  his  supreme  gift  is  the  loving  human 
heart,  that  his  overwhelming  witness  in  time  is 
the  heart  that  loves  Him  and  those  whom  He  has 
made,  that  a  community  of  loving  hearts  is  God's 
great  orchestra,  set  in  the  centre  of  this  boundless 
and  terrible  immensity,  rolling  out  the  psalm 
that  is  in  his  heart.  The  community  of  lovers, 
the  revelation  of  God,  the  Eternal  lover,  —  that 
is  the  Christian  way  into  the  untroubled  heart. 
How  completely  opposite  to  the  Buddhistic  faith 
is  that !  "  God  is  our  refuge  ! "  The  Eternal 
soul  is  our  "  present  help  in  time  of  trouble !  " 
"  Therefore  will  we  not  fear,  though  the  earth  be 
removed  !  "  "  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd  ;  I  shall 
not  want.  He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green 
pastures  :  he  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters. 
He  restoreth  my  soid.  Yea,  though  I  walk  through 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no 
evil ;  for  thou  art  with  me :  thy  rod  and  thy  staff, 
they  comfort  me." 

The  Eternal  God  is  the  source  of  peace  to  the 
loving  heart  in  the  great  Hebrew  faith,  and  when 
we  come  to  the  Christian  faith,  Paul  speaks  for 
us :  "  Who  shall  separate  us  from  the  love  of 
Christ  ?  "  The  whole  world  was  dear  to  the  Apos- 
tle, and  he  saw  this  dear  world  dying  every  day. 
You  must  enter  into  his  hope  and  fear,  his  pos- 


THE   UNTROUBLED  HEART  163 

session  and  his  sense  of  peril,  if  you  would  know 
the  majesty  of  his  words  :  "Who  shall  separate 
us  from  the  love  of  Christ?  shall  tribulation, 
or  anguish,  or  persecution,  or  famine,  or  naked- 
ness, or  peril,  or  sword  ?  Nay,  in  all  these  things 
we  are  more  than  conquerors  through  him  that 
loved  us.  For  I  am  persuaded,  that  neither  death, 
nor  life,  nor  angels,  nor  principalities,  nor  things 
present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor  powers,  nor 
height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall  be 
able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God,  which 
is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord."  The  heart  of  Christ 
is  the  revelation  of  the  heart  of  God.  From  the 
power  of  this  eternal  love  we  cannot  be  torn  away. 
The  inseparability  of  man  and  the  sacred  pos- 
sessions of  man's  soul  from  the  Eternal  lover  of 
mankind,  —  there  is  the  way  into  peace.  There 
is  the  peace  that  passeth  understanding. 

Look  now  at  Jesus  as  the  incarnation  of  the 
truth  of  his  own  words,  —  "  Let  not  your  heart 
be  troubled."  When  he  uttered  these  words,  he 
was  on  his  way  to  prison,  judgment,  and  death. 
He  who  deserved  the  best  was  on  his  way  to 
receive  the  worst.  He  who  had  done  the  world  the 
supreme  service  was  about  to  be  driven  out  of 
the  world  through  ignominy,  contempt,  and  cruci- 
fixion. And  as  he  treads  this  via  dolorosa,  here 
is  his  song :  "  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled ; 
believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me."    How  great 


164  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

that  song  was,  sweeping  up  against  the  blackness 
of  the  night !  We  dishonor  the  Lord  by  our 
pity !  "  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for 
me,  but  weep  for  yourselves,  and  for  your  chil- 
dren !  "  Jesus  went  forth  a  conqueror.  His 
spirit  is  the  mightiest  that  has  ever  appeared 
among  men. 

What  are  the  notes  of  the  true  hero  ?  Com- 
posure in  awful  peril,  consideration  for  those 
weaker  than  he,  the  maximum  of  regard  for 
others,  the  minimum  of  concern  for  himself,  con- 
fidence in  his  cause,  joy  in  living  for  it,  peace 
in  dying  for  it.  These  are  the  notes  of  the  true 
hero ;  these  are  the  notes  of  Christ  as  he  faces 
the  end.  He  had  himself  an  untroubled  heart 
under  the  shadow  of  the  cross.  That  is  the  first 
note  of  our  hero.  The  second  is  that  he  thought 
of  those  who  were  weaker  than  he.  Was  it  not 
a  time  for  the  disciples  to  be  consoling  the 
Master  ?  Was  it  not  an  hour  when  they  should 
have  turned  to  pour  balm  into  his  spirit?  He 
thought  of  them,  and  gave  them  his  compassion- 
ate, his  divine  regard.  He  thought  of  those  who 
were  weaker  than  he,  even  when  their  trial  was 
infinitely  less  than  his.  As  he  went  forth, — 
and  this  is  another  note  of  the  hero,  —  there 
was  in  him  the  maximum  of  concern  for  others 
and  the  minimum  of  concern  for  himself.  And 
finally,  he  went  forth  confident  in   his    cause, 


THE  UNTROUBLED  HEART  165 

securely  centred  in  the  austere  benignity  of 
God's  will,  glad  to  live  for  it,  and  through  the 
agony  and  bloody  sweat  lifted  into  eternal 
triumphant  reconciliation  to  it. 

I  call  attention  to  the  infinite  humanity  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  to  his  sublime  heroism.  Both 
his  treasure  and  his  strength  were  born  of  God, 
and  in  God  he  found  eternal  protection  and 
peace.  Our  Lord's  humanity  was  infinite  in  its 
tenderness,  in  its  reach,  in  its  burden,  and  he  was 
full  of  peace  in  this  perilous  possession  because 
he  was  full  of  God.  "  Father,  into  thy  hands  I 
commend  my  spirit."  There  is  peace  for  man 
nowhere  else.    You  recall  Dante's  great  line :  — 

"  In  his  will  is  our  peace." 

This  is  the  way  home.  We  must  not  sur- 
render to  despair;  we  must  not  seek  strength 
through  contempt  of  love  ;  we  must  not  try  to 
drown  pain  in  forbidden  pleasure  ;  we  must  not 
blaspheme  the  Soul  of  the  universe,  nor  imagine 
that  it  is  deaf  to  our  prayers  and  dumb  to  our 
needs.  We  must  keep  our  human  hearts.  The 
supreme  possession  is  the  true  human  heart.  In 
its  possible  depth,  range,  tenderness,  and  mystery 
past  finding  out,  lies  the  image  of  the  heart  that 
beats  eternally  at  the  centre  of  the  universe. 
Nothing  but  life  can  generate  life  ;  nothing  but 
love  can  create  love.    And  whoever  loves,  even 


166  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

if  he  fares  forward,  often  in  wild  and  solitary 
places  and  far  from  home,  may  know  that  God 
is  with  him ;  for  since  God  is  love,  his  love  is 
God. 

"  Keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence  ;  for  out 
of  it  are  the  issues  of  life."  Keep  it,  increase  it, 
carry  it  up  to  the  heights,  down  to  the  depths, 
and  abroad  as  wide  as  morning  from  evening; 
and  if  it  seems  that  you  cannot  live  in  such  a 
world  as  this  with  such  a  capacity  for  fondness, 
go  with  the  prophets  to  the  secret  place  of  the 
Most  High,  hide  with  them  under  the  shadow  of 
the  Almighty ;  walk  with  your  Master  on  his 
way  to  the  cross,  and  listen  to  his  triumphant 
song :  "  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled  :  believe 
in  God,  beheve  also  in  me." 


IX 

BELIEF  AND  FEAR 

"  The  devils  also  believe  and  tremble." 

James  li,  19. 

This  fact  I  have  always  regarded  as  highly 
creditable  to  the  devils.  They  had  sense  enough 
to  believe,  and  they  had  conscience  enough  to 
fear.  Our  devils  are  in  a  worse  plight.  They 
neither  believe  nor  tremble.  This  is  vastly  to 
their  intellectual  and  moral  discredit.  It  shows 
them  to  be  much  lower  down  in  the  scale  of 
existence  than  the  beings  to  whom  reference  is 
made  in  the  text ;  it  shows  them  to  be  nearly 
without  sense  and  almost  without  conscience. 

My  purpose  is  to  read  a  lesson  from  the 
demons  of  St.  James.  Ministers  are  sometimes 
accused  of  preaching  over  the  heads  of  their 
congregations,  of  selecting  ideal  persons,  and  of 
deducing  the  laws  of  life  for  ordinary  mortals 
from  the  veritable  saints  and  heroes  of  mankind. 
There  can  be  no  such  complaint  against  the  sub- 
ject for  to-day.  The  beings  about  whom  I  am 
to  reason  are,  to  put  it  mildly,  hardly  up  to  our 
level.  Few  of  us  would  care  to  be  addressed  in 
the  vivid  language  of  the  text.  We  are  ready 
to  grant  that  we  live  far  beneath  our  privilege  as 


168  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

men,  but  hardly  low  enough  to  be  classed  with 
demons.  Yet  from  these  sti-ange  beings  we  may 
learn  something.  I  am  to  speak  of  the  intellect- 
ual and  moral  dignity  implied  in  reasonable 
belief  and  fear. 

What  is  the  object  of  belief,  the  great,  abid- 
ing, purified  object  of  religious  belief  ?  It  is  the 
world's  best  thought  as  wrought  out  by  all  the 
generations  of  religious  genius.  It  is  the  solemn 
discovery  and  announcement  of  the  highest  and 
sanest  minds  of  the  race.  There  is  the  existence 
of  one  Supreme  Being,  in  whom  aU  men  live,  in 
whom  all  worlds  consist.  There  is  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  goodness,  the  sense  of  his  tender  mer- 
cies, the  assurance  that  He  is  the  Eternal  lover 
of  man.  There  is  the  moral  order  of  the  world. 
Here  it  is  forever  true  that  God  is  not  mocked. 
Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap. 
He  that  soweth  to  his  flesh  shall  reap  corruption ; 
he  that  soweth  to  the  Spirit  shall  reap  life  eternal. 
The  character  of  the  harvest  depends  upon  the 
nature  of  the  seed  sown.  The  men  who  sow  to 
the  wind  reap  the  whirlwind.  Cause  and  effect 
constitute  for  the  unjust  a  wheel  of  fire,  and  for 
the  just  a  shining  stairway  to  freedom  and  joy. 
No  man  can  do  evil  and  not  suffer,  no  man  can 
do  good  and  not  receive  recompense  ;  the  invio- 
lability of  the  moral  order  is  absolute.  There 
is  in  man  the  sense  of  obligation.    He  is  imder 


BELIEF  AND  FEAR  169 

bonds  to  do  what  is  right,  and  he  is  answerable 
to  the  Highest  for  his  deeds.  That  sense  of  ob- 
ligation may  be  abused,  but  it  cannot  be  bribed  ; 
it  may  be  ignored,  but  it  cannot  be  overawed ; 
it  may  be  for  a  time  suppressed,  but  it  cannot 
be  expelled.  There  is  the  permanence  of  the 
human  spirit,  its  involution  with  the  hfe  of 
God.  And  there  are  the  person,  teaching,  career, 
and  achievement  of  Jesus  Christ  as  the  sover- 
eign expression  of  the  religious  belief  of  man- 
kind. 

In  the  presence  of  this  august  order  of  thought, 
vaster  and  more  solemn  than  the  starry  heavens, 
we  live.  As  we  look  up  into  its  measureless 
heights,  consider  its  shining  and  unfathomable 
fullness,  think  of  it  as  the  glorious  firmament 
raised  over  our  humanity  by  the  sublimest  spirits 
of  our  race,  and  by  them  in  the  creative  strength 
of  insight  and  love,  and  in  an  agony  of  earnest- 
ness and  noble  sorrow ;  as  we  survey  this  sur- 
passing achievement  of  man  at  his  highest,  what 
shall  be  our  attitude  toward  it  ?  Shall  we  deny 
and  disregard,  or  shall  we  believe  and  fear  ? 

I.  What  does  belief  in  it  imply  as  to  the 
mind  of  the  believer  ?  It  implies  many  things, 
only  a  few  of  which  I  can  name.  It  implies  sen- 
sibility in  the  presence  of  this  high  human  world, 
susceptibility  to  its  vastness  and  beauty.  In 
a  way,  belief  implies  the  power  to  take  it  in. 


170  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

There  is  doubtless  much  superficial  belief.  Few 
indeed  reflect  in  a  rational  way  the  great  beliefs 
of  the  gospel.  Yet  these  beliefs  are  in  the  feel- 
ings, in  the  instincts,  in  the  sympathies,  of  every 
genuine  believer ;  they  are  in  his  heart,  and  he 
knows  that  they  are  there,  even  as  the  sailor 
knows  that  the  full  moon  and  the  great  stars 
have  their  image  in  the  sea  through  which  the 
ship  that  absorbs  his  attention  sails.  Thus  God 
has  set  eternity  in  the  heart  of  sincere  and 
believing  men. 

Unbelief  is  much  more  likely  to  be  shallow. 
It  does  not  start  from  the  great  premise  that 
something  must  be  true.  It  does  not  heed  the 
fact  that  on  the  whole  the  race  is  a  believing  race. 
It  does  not  pause  over  the  weakness  of  the  indi- 
vidual thinker  in  comparison  with  the  strength 
of  the  whole  body  of  creative  historic  thinkers. 
Unbelief  does  not  dream  that  it  is  as  impossi- 
ble for  the  individual  mind  to  replace  the  best 
thought  of  the  race  upon  the  fundamental  things 
of  faith  as  it  would  be  for  the  individual  person 
to  wipe  out  of  existence  all  government,  all  laws, 
all  social  customs,  all  business  methods,  all  dis- 
coveries, all  adaptations  of  science  to  the  task 
of  living,  and  in  absolute  independence  of 
their  influence,  to  put  in  their  room  something 
worthier.  We  inherit  our  human  world.  We 
inherit  business,  science,  art,  literature,  social  cus- 


BELIEF  AND  FEAR  171 

toms ;  we  inherit  our  language,  our  country,  our 
religion.  We  inherit  to  use  and  to  improve ;  but 
our  first  duty  is  to  measure,  if  we  can,  the  great- 
ness of  our  inheritance.  The  human  world  that 
we  have  inherited  is  infinitely  rich.  The  unbe- 
liever does  not  take  it  in.  He  rarely  gives  the 
things  of  faith  a  chance  to  speak  for  themselves. 
His  denial  is  apt  to  be  extempore  ;  his  unbelief, 
even  at  its  best,  is  unsympathetic,  and  it  is 
always  in  danger  of  shallowness. 

The  profound  believer  reverses  this  process. 
He  sees  the  magnitude  and  impressiveness  of  the 
religious  interpretation  of  existence.  He  opens 
his  intelligence  to  its  appeal.  He  allows  it  to 
speak  for  itself ;  he  allows  it  to  reflect  itself  in 
imagination  as  the  great  lake  reflects  calmly 
and  patiently  the  shining  order  of  the  midnight 
sky.  He  knows  that  he  is  doing  intellectual  jus- 
tice to  Christian  faith.  He  knows  that  he  has 
the  power  to  take  it  in.  He  knows  that  its 
magnitude  and  splendor  give  range  and  lustre 
to  his  intelligence.  So  much  he  can  say  in  favor 
of  his  belief. 

The  radical  believer  takes  another  step.  He 
accustoms  himself  to  imagine  what  the  race  would 
be  without  faith.  He  denudes  the  race  of  its 
faith  in  God,  its  belief  in  a  moral  order,  its  sense 
of  obligation,  its  hope  of  endless  life,  its  vision 
of  Christ  and  his  kingdom  of  love.    He  pictures 


172  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

to  himself  what  the  racial  intellect  would  be,  if 
all  high  faith  were  extinguished  ;  what  the  racial 
heart  would  be,  if  all  the  sweet  affections,  all  the 
generous  sympathies,  all  the  ennobling  hopes,  all 
the  hallowed  worlds  of  feeling  inspired  by  Chris- 
tianity, should  be  consumed ;  what  the  racial  will 
would  be,  if  all  the  great  incentives  to  righteous- 
ness originating  in  the  Christian  view  of  existence 
should  be  abolished  ;  what  the  racial  instincts 
would  become,  if  there  could  be  no  impact 
upon  them  through  the  consciousness  of  God,  of 
the  Holy  Spirit.  Thus  the  awful  picture  rises 
before  the  serious  believer  of  a  humanity  denuded 
of  its  religious  faith,  bereaved  of  its  ideals,  shorn 
of  its  sovereign  spiritual  possession,  robbed  of  its 
proper  humanity,  and  smitten  with  everlasting 
sterility  and  sorrow.  It  is  the  vision  of  the  liv- 
ing, beautiful,  fruitful  earth  turned  into  a  desert. 
The  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  are  every- 
where. Death  has  taken  the  place  of  life,  and 
the  cheerful  and  hopeful  world  of  men  has  sunk 
into  the  kingdom  of  the  brute.  Denude  the  earth 
of  its  forests,  and  you  end  its  prevailing  appeal 
to  the  clouds  for  the  early  and  the  latter  rain, 
for  seedtime  and  harvest,  for  the  storms  and 
tempests  that  keep  it  fruitful  and  beautiful ;  de- 
nude the  race  of  its  highest  expression,  its  fairest 
growth,  its  religious  faith,  and  you  deny  to  it  the 
dews  of  heaven,  you  isolate  it  from  the  gracious 


BELIEF  AND  FEAR  173 

touch  of  the  Infinite,  you  smite  it  with  sorrow 
and  despair. 

The  thoughtful  believer  takes  still  another 
step.  When  he  has  called  in  question  the  funda- 
mental things  of  faith,  turned  religious  vision 
into  a  dream,  reduced  the  great  insights  of  Chris- 
tianity to  an  order  of  pious  hallucinations,  a  sys- 
tem of  beautiful  but  groundless  imaginations,  a 
benign  but  baseless  fabric  of  poetic  genius  in  the 
teeth  and  eyes  of  the  inflexible,  protesting  reality 
of  the  world,  he  recalls  one  solemn  obhgation 
of  the  reasoner.  He  must  not  only  pull  down ; 
he  must  also  build  up.  He  must  not  only  deny 
the  truth  of  belief ;  he  must  also  prove  the  truth 
of  his  unbelief.  Prove  that  there  is  no  God. 
Prove  that  God  is  not  good.  Prove  that  there 
is  no  moral  world,  no  moral  universe.  Prove  that 
man  is  not  under  moral  obligation  to  the  Eternal. 
Prove  that  there  is  no  permanence  to  the  human 
spirit.  Prove  that  the  character  of  life  here  has 
no  consequences  of  weal  or  woe  beyond  the  grave. 
Prove  that  Jesus  Christ  and  his  vision  and  passion 
and  influence  do  not  tell  the  highest  truth  about 
man,  and  about  man's  universe.  Prove  our  denial. 
That  is  impossible.  If  you  could  prove  your  denial, 
you  would  be  omniscient,  you  would  be  God. 
Can  you  prove  that  this  earth  is  the  only  world 
in  infinite  space  that  is  the  abode  of  life  ?  Can 
you  prove  that  there  is  intelligence  nowhere  in 


174  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

the  universe  except  in  man  ?  Can  you  prove  that 
love  beats  only  in  the  human  heart?  Can  you 
prove  your  denial  that  love  has  in  it  the  sugges- 
tion of  the  Infinite,  as  there  is  in  day  the  reference 
to  the  "  sweet  approach  of  even  or  morn  "  ?  These 
propositions  cannot  be  proved.  They  presuppose, 
in  order  to  prove  them,  infinite  knowledge.  They 
may  be  true,  and  they  may  not ;  lower  than  that 
mood  you  cannot  reasonably  go. 

At  this  point  men  fall  back  into  the  despair  of 
knowledge,  the  despair  of  clear  and  reasonable 
opinion.  They  give  up  the  problem  of  existence 
as  beyond  them,  as  beyond  man.  They  take 
refuge  in  ignorance.  They  surrender  the  hope 
of  a  reasonable  view  of  human  life  to  absolute, 
unmitigable  mystery.  The  race  becomes  an  infant 
crying  in  the  night,  with  no  language  but  a  cry. 
They  cannot  trust  the  full  meaning  of  this  com- 
parison. They  cannot  see  in  man  the  power  of  the 
infant,  the  awakening,  moving  force  of  that  cry ; 
they  cannot  discern  in  the  infant  with  no  lan- 
guage but  a  cry,  round  whom  the  whole  house- 
hold is  ordered  in  tender  and  anxious  ministry, 
the  suggestion  that  around  the  soul  and  its  need, 
and  in  its  pathetic,  inarticulate  appeals,  there 
gathers  a  divine  universe,  and  a  love  that  can 
save  even  when  it  is  not  understood.  This  strange 
mood  cannot  last.  It  is  an  exaggeration  of  the 
frailty  of  man.    We  are  not  so  badly  off  as  an 


BELIEF  AND  FEAR  175 

infant  crying  in  the  night.  It  is  a  mood  wanting 
in  courage,  and  man  is  a  being  essentially  cour- 
ageous. When  his  hour  comes,  man  can  take  his 
fate  with  composure  and  hope.  He  is  born  to 
contend,  and  not  to  surrender,  to  overcome,  and 
not  to  suffer  defeat.  And  a  race  conscious  of 
the  gift  of  insight,  sensible  of  the  growth  of 
knowledge,  aware  of  the  marvelous  rapidity  with 
which  at  favorable  moments  nature  yields  up 
her  eonian  secrets,  will  not  surrender  because 
the  puzzle  is  great,  because  the  battle  is  severe. 
Agnosticism  is  doomed  for  these  two  reasons. 
First,  it  is  an  exaggeration  of  man's  impotence. 
Second,  it  leaves  no  room  for  the  full  display  of 
man's  courage  and  hope.  Man  has  in  his  long 
wrestle  thrown  a  thousand  giants  supposed  to  be 
invincible.  He  will  never  own  defeat.  He  will 
quail  before  no  contest.  He  will  wrestle  the 
secret  from  the  Infinite,  as  Jacob  did,  and  in  the 
morning  light  go  forth,  the  possessor  of  an  Eter- 
nal blessing. 

To  this,  then,  the  intellectual  problem  of  be- 
lief comes.  Shall  I  march  or  refuse  to  march 
with  my  kind  ?  Shall  I  or  shall  I  not  cast  in  my 
part  with  humanity  as  interpreted  and  as  carried 
up  out  of  the  depths  on  to  the  heights  by  the 
supreme  spirits  of  the  race?  What  shall  be  my 
attitude  toward  the  loftiest  wisdom,  the  purest 
sentiment,  the  wisest  and  bravest  character  in 


176  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

human  history  ?  Shall  I  decline  to  join  this  high 
fellowship?  Shall  I  make  light  of  the  tremen- 
dous thing  that  it  is  for  the  individual  man  to  go 
against  the  race  at  its  best  ?  Or  shall  I  say  :  I 
was  born  a  man,  I  suffer  as  a  man,  I  love  as  a 
man,  I  go  as  a  man  under  the  heat  and  burden 
of  the  day,  I  shall  die  as  a  man.  I  have  been  a 
participant  in  the  general  life  of  my  kind ;  let  me 
become  a  communicant  in  the  highest  experiences 
of  my  race.  Let  me  cast  in  my  lot  with  man  in 
everything  worthy ;  let  me  cast  in  my  lot  with 
the  humanity  that  entertains  the  heavenly  vision, 
that  repents,  that  obtains  forgiveness,  that  lifts 
itself  up  in  the  moral  grandeur  of  struggle  and 
hope,  that  goes  in  the  pathos  of  a  mournful  weak- 
ness, and  in  the  solace  of  a  quenchless  faith  ? 

II.  What  shall  be  the  moral  attitude  toward 
this  purified  world  of  belief?  In  the  text,  on 
the  part  of  the  demons,  it  is  fear ;  and  I  wish  to 
show  the  moral  dignity  of  that  attitude.  As 
belief  implies  that  something  is  true,  so  fear 
implies  that  something  is  precious.  If  nothing 
were  dear  to  man,  and  if  what  is  dear  were  in  no 
danger,  there  would  be  no  place  for  fear.  Life 
is  smitten  with  fear  because  it  is  precious,  and 
because  it  is  under  ceaseless  menace.  When  the 
mother  bends  over  her  sick  child,  when  she  sees 
that  child  as  a  young  man  going  into  a  strange 
city,  when  she  sees  his  nature  putting  forth  its 


BELIEF  AND  FEAR  177 

full  power  in  the  presence  of  a  thousand  seduc- 
tions, when  she  is  aware  that  he  is  bearing  re- 
sponsibilities heavier  than  man  can  endure, 
when  she  sends  him  into  battle  for  his  country, 
in  each  case  she  fears  for  him  because  he  is 
dear  to  her,  and  because  his  life  is  in  danger. 
And  so  it  is  throughout  the  animal  kingdom, 
throughout  the  human  kingdom,  wherever  you 
find  these  two  things,  —  something  that  is  pre- 
cious, and  what  is  precious  in  peril.  Reasonable 
fear  is  the  quickened  pulse  or  the  fever  heat 
that  sounds  the  alarm,  that  calls  attention  to 
grave  conditions,  to  possible  loss.  Reasonable 
fear  for  others  is  the  beacon  light  that  flashes 
its  warning  to  the  mariner  over  the  wild  sea, 
or  the  fog-buoy  that  in  the  darkness  moans  its 
monotonous  dirge.  Precious  is  your  life,  there- 
fore that  wild  pulse,  that  strange  fire,  must  be 
heeded ;  precious  is  the  life  of  others,  therefore 
that  solemn  light,  that  mournful  cry,  must  not 
be  disregarded. 

The  fact  that  one  is  sinking  as  a  moral  value, 
that  one  is  becoming  less  of  a  man,  that  the 
highest  qualities  in  one's  character  are  suffering, 
that  in  one's  humanity  one  is  losing  strength 
and  tone,  is  a  legitimate  object  of  fear.  What 
shall  we  think  of  the  man  who  is  not  afraid  to 
lose  worth,  who  has  no  dread  of  moral  descent, 
to  whom  the  brutal  life  that  is  coming  upon  him 


178  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

by  stealth  is  no  horror  ?  Can  you  think  of  any 
mood  more  degraded  ?  Oh,  the  men  who  have  no 
pity  upon  themselves,  whose  precious  spiritual 
being  is  departing  and  who  are  without  fear ! 
As  we  look  at  them,  we  recall  Christ's  words : 
"  Weep  not  for  me,  but  weep  for  yourselves, 
and  for  your  children."  Men  sorrow  over  the 
wrong  things.  They  are  grieved  over  material 
loss,  over  outward  reverse  and  disaster.  The 
nobler  among  them  weep  over  the  sorrows  and 
losses  of  the  good,  and  the  tragedies  that  some- 
times involve  the  sublimest  lives.  These  are 
not  properly  objects  of  sorrow.  These  men  have 
within  their  hearts  the  eternal  consolations. 
Christ  upon  the  cross  did  not  weep  for  himself ; 
his  soul  went  out  in  pity  for  the  poor,  brutal 
men  who  were  putting  him  to  death :  "  Father, 
forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do." 
Milton  sings  for  all  the  brave  when,  in  recoimt- 
ing  his  sorrows,  he  discovers  his  conquering 
sense  of  God  and  declares  his  singing  voice 

"  Unchanged 
To  hoarse  or  mute,  though  fallen  on  evil  days, 
On  evil  days  though  fallen,  and  evil  tongues ; 
In  darkness,  and  with  dangers  compass'd  round. 
And  solitude ;  yet  not  alone  while  thou 
Visit'st  my  slumbers  nightly,  or  when  morn 
Purples  the  east." 

Fear  of  sin,  fear  of  the  loss  of  worth,  fear  of 

the  loss  of  the  ideal,  fear  of  any  surrender  to 


BELIEF  AND  FEAB  179 

lust  or  shame,  a  deep-seated  and  abiding  fear 
of  the  mutilation  of  one's  humanity,  of  every- 
thing that  hardens  the  heart,  is  a  reasonable 
fear,  and  the  man  who  is  destitute  of  this  fear 
is  sinking  into  the  kingdom  of  the  brute. 

The  thought  that  one's  family  may  lose  in 
moral  vigilance  and  vigor,  that  one's  children 
may  fail  to  live  in  their  finer  instincts,  that  they 
may  miss  the  best  training  in  conscience  and 
in  will,  is  surely  something  worthy  of  fear ; 
the  dread  lest  those  for  whose  existence  you  are 
responsible  shall  grow  up  with  no  share  in 
the  world's  best  vision  of  God  and  man,  with 
no  participation  in  the  world's  highest  feeling 
toward  the  universe  and  human  life,  with  no 
place  in  the  sublime  fellowship  of  the  servants 
of  righteousness  in  all  generations,  with  no  com- 
munion with  the  saints  and  heroes  of  the  earth, 
is  surely  enough  to  fill  with  anxiety  the  heart  of 
the  reasonable  parent.  What  is  the  best  thing 
that  you  can  do  for  your  children  ?  Enable 
them  to  live  in  strength  when  you  are  gone. 
Make  them  able  to  meet  with  serious  courage 
and  hope  the  inevitable  in  existence.  Accustom 
them  to  draw  upon  the  Eternal  for  strength, 
serenity,  and  joy.  Cultivate  within  them  the 
habit  of  reasonable  trust  in  God.  Give  your 
children  faith  in  the  moral  meaning  of  existence, 
in  the  moral  purpose  of  history,  in  the  moral 


180  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

character  of  God,  and  in  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ  as  the  sovereign  expression  of  these 
things. 

When  we  look  at  our  country,  and  still  more 
when  we  regard  our  humanity  in  its  relation  to 
the  universe,  the  same  principle  holds  good.  We 
are  afraid  of  unrighteousness  because  we  know 
that  it  will  entail  untold  dishonor  to  the  land 
that  we  love,  inexpressible  suffering  to  our  kind. 
Job  said  :  "  When  I  consider,  I  am  afraid."  Seri- 
ous thought  over  the  preciousness  to  man  of  a 
noble  soul,  and  a  high  bearing  toward  the  Infinite 
in  the  heart  of  this  seductive  world,  is  surely 
troubled  with  fear.  The  mother  is  in  perpetual 
subdued  alarm  over  the  helpless,  prophetic  in- 
fant in  her  arms.  It  is  so  precious  and  so  frail, 
and  a  thousand  terrors  surround  its  life.  When 
she  considers,  she  is  afraid  ;  and  her  fear  is  the 
impulse  to  a  ministry  that  shields  and  saves. 
When  we  consider  the  unimaginable  calamities 
that  may  issue  from  an  evil  will,  from  inhuman 
feeling,  from  wanton  selfishness  of  any  form  ; 
when  we  allow  the  unmeasured  possibilities  of 
suffering  as  the  consequence  of  iniquity  to 
reflect  their  black  and  terrible  character  in  the 
mind,  when  we  try  to  calculate  the  whole  awful 
issue  of  a  loveless  existence,  it  can  only  be  with 
fear.  And  the  depth  of  our  fear  will  measure 
the  height  of  our  humanity.    The  man  without 


BELIEF  AND  FEAR  181 

reasonable  fear  comes  near  being  the  worst  of 
men.  He  cares  neither  for  God  nor  his  kind. 
The  man  who  counts  existence  precious,  and 
who  sees  the  peril  encompassing  it,  who  loves 
his  kind  and  who  marks  its  temptations,  must 
fear  to  do  wrong,  must  tremble  at  the  issues 
of  wrong-doing,  must  pray  that  his  mood  and 
that  of  his  brothers  may  be :  How  can  I  do  this 
great  wickedness  and  sin  against  God  ? 

Thus  belief  and  fear  in  the  presence  of  the 
purified  faith  of  mankind  are  a  sign  of  intel- 
lectual power,  and  a  witness  of  moral  elevation. 
We  dare  to  hope,  even  for  the  rich  man  who 
found  himself  in  Hades  and  in  torment,  when 
we  find  him  concerned  about  his  brethren  still 
living  in  the  earth.  There  is  hope  for  the  man, 
in  torment  because  of  his  sin,  who  still  loves 
his  brethren,  and  who  desires  to  keep  them  out 
of  that  torment.  The  power  to  picture  the  stern 
truth  of  the  universe,  to  feel  the  preciousness  and 
the  peril  in  the  life  of  his  kindred,  his  solemn 
apprehension  of  the  immutable  order  of  God, 
and  his  concern  for  those  whom  he  has  left  in 
the  upper  world,  lift  Dives,  in  comparison  with 
brutish  men,  into  moral  grandeur.  How  immea- 
surably higher  in  the  scale  of  being  this  man  is 
than  those  who  have  no  beliefs  about  the  moral 
order  of  the  world,  and  who  are  without  moral 
fear   either   for  themselves  or  for  their  fellow 


182  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

men  !  How  low  down  is  intellectual  inhospital- 
ity  toward  the  highest  moral  faith ;  how  repul- 
sive is  indifference  to  it!  How  near  to  the  brute 
man  descends  when  he  loses  the  power  to  reflect 
the  sovereign  spiritual  thought  of  the  world,  its 
purified  vision  of  the  meaning  of  man  and  his 
universe ! 

It  is  the  brutish  mind  that  is  the  tragedy  of 
the  world.  The  inhuman  lives  are  the  supreme 
sorrow.  When  they  die  who  with  their  human- 
ity have  served  humanity,  we  employ  Milton's 
words,  we  give  "  immortal  thanks."  We  cry 
with  strong  delight :  — 

"  Nothing  is  here  for  tears,  nothing  to  wail 
Or  knock  the  breast ;  no  weakness,  no  contempt, 
Dispraise  or  blame,  nothing  but  well  and  fair, 
And  what  may  quiet  us  in  a  death  so  noble." 

When  they  live  whose  humanity  has  become 
inhumanity,  whose  mood  has  hardened  into 
indifference  to  all  faith  and  aU  righteousness, 
then  we  must  grieve.  That  is  the  last  and  worst 
phase  of  man's  career  under  the  sun.  The  rea- 
son that  is  impotent  in  the  presence  of  the 
highest  religious  thought  and  the  conscience  that 
is  callous  in  the  presence  of  the  sovereign  obli- 
gation of  man  are  the  lowest  limit  that  human 
nature  can  reach.  So  long  as  men  have  intellect 
enough  to  reflect  the  august  moral  order  of  exist- 
ence and  conscience  enough  to  fear  it,  so  long  as 


BELIEF  AND  FEAR  183 

they  are  not  lower  down  than  the  demons  of  St. 
James,  so  long  as  upon  the  vision  of  the  world's 
supreme  insight  and  character  they  believe  and 
tremble,  there  is  ground  for  hope.  Nothing  but 
insensibihty  to  the  highest,  insensibility  harden- 
ing into  permanence,  is  ultimately  discouraging. 
A  frozen,  an  extinct  humanity  is  the  really  ter- 
rible abyss.  Great  wickedness  with  great  sensi- 
bility of  itself,  and  with  great  eagerness  toward 
the  highest,  is  at  an  immeasurable  distance  from 
the  final  horror  of  a  dead  humanity.  "  Dost 
thou  not  even  fear  God,  seeing  thou  art  in  the 
same  condemnation  ?  And  we  indeed  justly ;  for 
we  receive  the  due  reward  of  our  deeds :  but  this 
man  hath  done  nothing  amiss.  And  he  said, 
Jesus,  remember  me  when  thou  comest  in  thy 
kingdom."  Oh,  how  faith  in  the  Highest  expands 
and  ennobles  the  intelligence !  Oh,  how  awe  in 
the  presence  of  the  Highest  cleanses  the  soul, 
makes  the  thief  ready,  as  by  the  renewing  hand 
of  God,  for  the  great  salutation  and  assurance : 
"  Verily  I  say  unto  thee,  to-day  shalt  thou  be 
with  me  in  Paradise." 


X 

THE  INHERITANCE  OF  FAITH 

"  Bleaaed  be  the  Lord  God  of  our  fathers." 

Ezra  vii,  27. 

When  we  first  think  of  it,  faith  seems  to  be  some- 
thing with  which  sentiment  and  tradition  have 
absolutely  nothing  to  do.  Faith  is  the  personal 
vision  of  God.  The  vision  of  other  men,  of  other 
generations,  would  seem  to  have  little  to  do  with 
this  personal  beholding  of  the  Eternal.  Can  any 
dearest  friend  see  or  hear,  taste  or  handle,  for 
one  ?  If  one  is  blind,  what  avails  it  that  other 
men  see  ?  If  one's  eyes  are  wide  open  upon  the 
beauty  of  the  world,  what  need  is  there  for 
pondering  the  things  that  other  eyes  have  seen  ? 
Is  not  the  sight  of  the  eyes  independent  of 
history  ?  And  is  not  the  sight  of  the  soid  inde- 
pendent of  the  past  ?  If  God  is  our  refuge  and 
strength,  a  very  present  help  in  trouble,  need  we 
consider  what  He  has  been  to  other  generations  ? 
Is  not  faith  born  anew  in  the  personal  soul  ?  Is 
not  God  sufficient  as  He  stands  in  the  vision 
of  the  individual  mind  ?  Is  not  the  idea  of 
the  inheritance  of  faith  a  contradiction,  like  the 
idea  of  the  inherited  knowledge  of   Greek,  or 


THE  INHERITANCE  OF  FAITH  185 

mechanics,  or  navigation,  or  war,  or  any  other 
subject  that  men  master  by  personal  effort  ?  Is 
not  faith  a  kind  of  inspiration,  and,  as  in  breath- 
ing, must  not  every  man  gain  it  for  himself? 
What  addition  can  be  made  to  the  reasonableness 
and  power  of  belief  in  God,  by  confessing  Him 
as  the  Lord  God  of  our  fathers  ? 

When  the  sun  comes  up  in  the  east  and  floods 
the  world  with  light,  and  when  it  goes  down  in 
the  west  and  leaves  the  world  transfigured  in  its 
evening  glow,  we  think  mainly,  if  not  exclu- 
sively, of  the  sun.  We  lift  our  thought  to  the 
light,  we  give  thanks  for  the  light,  we  praise  it, 
and  we  rejoice  in  it.  And  all  that  is  well,  but 
it  is  not  the  whole  truth  or  the  true  attitude 
toward  the  phenomenon.  The  sun  comes  through 
leagues  of  soft  and  sweet  and  wholesome  and 
blessed  atmosphere,  the  atmosphere  in  which 
our  world  roUs  and  lives,  and  through  the  service 
of  the  atmosphere  there  is  daily  wrought  the 
miracle  of  morning  and  evening.  God  is  the 
sovereign  reality  of  the  universe  ;  the  thought 
of  God  is  the  sovereign  thought  of  mankind.  It 
is  the  master  light  of  aU  our  seeing  ;  it  is  the 
illumination  and  consolation  of  the  race.  And  we 
do  weU,  when  we  think  of  life's  last  refuge  and 
beauty,  to  lift  our  thought  to  the  Infinite  Father 
of  men.  And  yet  this  is  not  the  whole  truth. 
God  comes  to  the  individual  believer  through 


186  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

the  race  of  believers  ;  He  comes  through  our 
humanity,  through  its  need,  its  aspiration,  its 
love,  its  struggle,  its  sorrow,  its  tears,  its  hope ; 
through  its  pathos  and  its  prophecy  ;  its  whole 
sphere,  its  whole  history.  The  heart,  not  of  the 
individual  man,  but  of  the  historic  man,  is  the 
great  prism  in  which  is  unfolded  the  glory  of  God. 
We  stand  in  a  great  solidarity  of  distress. 
Because  we  are  men,  we  inherit  defect  and  disa- 
bility of  many  kinds,  we  inherit  ills  of  various 
sorts,  we  are  fated  to  certain  woes,  and  we  are 
doomed  to  death.  The  words  of  Paul  are  for- 
ever sounding  in  our  ears,  "As  in  Adam  all 
die  I "  All  die  because  all  stand  in  solidarity 
with  the  first  man.  This  half-truth  is  to-day 
crushing  the  heart  out  of  thousands.  Men  see 
the  inheritance  of  sorrow  and  nothing  else ; 
they  read  the  doom  of  death  and  nothing  more. 
The  race  has  power  to  transmit  the  reign  of 
sorrow,  it  has  the  power  to  perpetuate  the  au- 
thority of  death.  "  As  in  Adam  all  die  "  is  the 
half-truth  under  which  men  to-day  groan.  Why 
not  recognize  the  other  half  of  the  truth  ?  We 
stand  in  a  solidarity  of  privilege.  We  inherit 
health  and  vigor.  We  inherit  a  world  whose 
productive  power  has  been  heightened  under  the 
cultivation  of  many  generations.  In  a  large 
sense  we  inherit  the  ways  and  means  of  doing 
business,  the  ways  and  means  of  living ;  we  in- 


THE  INHERITANCE  OF  FAITH  187 

herit  the  deepest  wisdom,  the  purest  sentiment, 
the  highest  ideals,  of  the  loftiest  souls  of  all 
time.  We  inherit  the  capacity  for  love,  the  love 
of  man  and  the  love  of  God.  We  inherit  our 
religion.  Before  it  becomes  ours  through  per- 
sonal choice  and  character,  we  belong  to  it  by 
descent.  It  becomes  ours  by  personal  endeavor ; 
we  are  its  children  by  nature.  It  is  in  our 
blood  and  bone,  our  brain  and  tissue.  Our 
being  is  alive  with  the  benign  power  of  a  his- 
toric religion.  We  are  in  debt  to  the  race ;  it  is 
an  infinite  debt.  It  is,  therefore,  unjust  to  say 
that  we  stand  only  in  a  soKdarity  of  pain.  We 
stand  in  a  solidarity  of  sorrow  and  of  joy,  in 
the  discipline  and  in  the  hope,  in  the  struggle 
and  in  the  conquest,  of  existence.  The  whole 
truth  is  this :  "  As  in  Adam  aU  die,  so  in 
Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive." 

There  are  two  great  tendencies  of  our  nature 
that  seem  to  me  very  significant  and  beautiful, 
the  tendency  toward  our  kindred  and  the  tend- 
ency toward  our  kindred's  God.  These  tend- 
encies are  not  fatalistic.  They  do  not  exclude 
self-direction.    They  are  the  basis  of  it. 

1.  There  is  the  tendency  toward  our  kindred. 
It  is  a  movement  of  heart  full  of  utmost  rich- 
ness, utmost  meaning,  and  with  a  divine  depth 
of  tenderness  in  it.  It  has  three  epochs.  The 
child  is  the  example  of  the  first  epoch.    It  lives 


188  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

and  moves  and  has  its  being  in  its  home,  in  its 
mother's  love,  in  its  father's  strength.  How 
easily  it  looks  at  the  world  through  parental 
eyes !  How  easily  it  thinks  as  its  father  and 
mother  think,  feels  as  they  feel,  takes  on  the 
tone  of  their  thought  and  the  color  of  their  char- 
acter !  How  easily  it  is  moulded  by  them  into 
the  spirit  of  the  home!  And  I  need  not  pause 
to  remark  the  world  of  joy  and  strength  that 
comes  out  of  this  discipline  to  the  fortunate 
child,  or  the  world  of  delight  and  solace  that 
comes  out  of  it  to  the  wise  and  reverent  parent. 
Childhood  is  succeeded  by  youth.  Here  is  the 
second  epoch  in  this  tendency.  In  youth  there 
is,  however  it  may  be  disguised  or  chastened  or 
sweetened,  a  temporary  alienation  from  parental 
life.  New  worlds  dawn  upon  youth,  new  interests, 
new  fascinations,  new  friendships,  bright  worlds 
into  which  the  young  soul  passes.  However  fine 
and  true  and  tender  the  young  soul  may  be,  there 
is  a  decided  alienation  from  the  dear,  early  home. 
The  vast  and  beautiful  world  of  love  opens  to 
the  young ;  they  pass  into  it  with  music  in  their 
hearts.  Father  and  mother  are  no  longer  all- 
sufficing  ;  the  son  and  daughter  found  homes  for 
themselves.  The  time  was  when  the  old  home 
with  father  and  mother  in  it  was  the  centre  of 
existence,  and  now  it  has  become  incidental. 
The  new  home  is  the  centre  of  existence,  and 


TEE  INHERITANCE  OF  FAITH  189 

all  other  interests  and  relations  wait  upon  this. 
There  is  this  undeniable,  inevitable,  pathetic 
alienation  of  the  dear  heart  of  childhood  from 
father  and  mother.  Childhood  has  become  youth, 
and  has  gone  into  another  world,  a  world  of  its 
own.  It  is  all  as  it  should  be.  It  is  inevitable. 
This  process,  however,  presents  the  supreme 
problem  of  life.  How  the  passage  is  made,  in 
what  spirit,  from  the  old  world  into  the  new,  is 
of  infinite  moment  to  youth. 

There  is  the  third  epoch.  This  describes  the 
return  to  the  old  home.  The  young  mother,  in 
the  presence  of  her  growing  children,  with  the 
urgent,  anxious  problems  of  her  family  forever 
before  her,  standing  under  the  burden  of  her 
responsibility  to  these  souls, — how  inevitably 
she  goes  back  to  her  own  mother,  whether  liv- 
ing or  dead,  communes  with  her  in  spirit,  raises 
from  the  grave  worlds  of  forgotten  wisdom,  and 
recovers  so  far  as  she  can  all  the  healing,  in- 
fluential ways  of  that  vanished  mother !  The 
father  lives  anew  in  the  maturing  manhood  of 
his  son.  Twenty  or  thirty  years  after  the  father 
is  in  the  unseen  world,  his  intellect  and  will,  his 
wisdom  and  courage,  his  hope  and  power,  are  the 
resource  and  power  of  his  son.  In  the  strength 
of  his  dead  father  the  son  is  able  to  run  through 
a  troop  and  to  leap  over  a  waU.  Whether  in 
the  flesh  or  in  the  spirit  only,  the  son  is  again 


190  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

in  the  early  home,  talking  with  his  father.  And 
this  goes  on  to  the  end  of  life.  We  spend 
our  last  years  in  reuniting  our  separated  lives 
with  the  beloved  who  are  gone,  in  making  fast 
our  souls  to  the  dear  souls  from  whom  we  have 
been  parted.  An  old  man  of  ninety-five  was  once 
asked  how  the  distant  past  seemed  to  him.  The 
old  man  replied :  "  Every  night  when  I  retire  I 
can  hear  my  mother's  voice,  I  can  feel  her  touch, 
and  I  can  hardly  believe  that  more  than  a  few 
years  have  intervened  since  I  was  a  child  under 
her  heavenly  care."  We  recall  the  exquisite 
touch  with  which  Ian  Maclaren  closes  his  de- 
scription of  the  doctor  of  the  old  school.  He 
is  dying,  and  his  wandering  thoughts  are  back 
with  his  mother.  He  is  a  boy  again,  in  the  early 
home,  learning  his  psalm  that  he  may  repeat  it 
to  his  mother,  calling  to  her  when  he  thinks 
that  he  has  it,  and  going  hence  at  her  side  with 
the  great  whisper  upon  his  lips :  "  And  in  God's 
house  forevermore  my  dwelling  place  shall  be." 
And  that  you  may  not  think  this  is  mere  fancy, 
let  me  remind  you  of  Carlyle's  last  hours  as 
reported  by  the  nephew  and  niece  who  were  with 
him,  and  who  cared  for  him  with  great  tender- 
ness. When  the  old  man  was  dying,  he  thought 
his  niece  was  his  beautiful  mother  once  more  by 
his  side ;  he  put  his  arms  round  her,  spoke  to 
her  as  to  his  mother,  and  wept  as  in  a  mother's 


THE  INHERITANCE  OF  FAITH  191 

consoling  and  hallowing  presence.  He  took  his 
nephew  for  his  father,  and  spoke  again  as  in  the 
noble  presence  of  the  old  mason  of  Ecclefechan. 
Carlyle  at  eighty-five  is  dying,  not  in  Cheyne 
Row,  Chelsea,  London,  but  in  the  humble  home 
in  that  little  village  in  Dumfriesshire,  Scotland. 
And  this  return  we  all  make,  when  we  are  true 
to  our  humanity.  We  all  come  back  at  last  to 
our  kindred  ;  we  are  finally  gathered  to  our 
fathers,  as  in  the  pathetic  and  wondrous  words 
of  the  Bible.  We  begin  our  being  in  home,  in 
the  heart  of  it.  For  a  little  we  are  alienated 
from  that  early  home  because  we  have  founded 
one  of  our  own.  Then  by  the  high  and  solemn 
interest  of  our  new  home,  by  its  burden,  its 
sanctity,  and  its  hope,  we  are  brought  back  to  the 
voice  that  we  first  heard,  and  to  the  heart  that 
first  loved  us.  If  Rachel  still  weeps  for  her 
children,  she  shall  not  weep  forever.  If  she  still 
refuses  to  be  comforted  because  they  are  not, 
she  shall  not  be  comfortless  forever.  They  shaU 
come  again  to  her,  they  shall  gather  round  her, 
they  shall  greet  her  with  their  bright  eyes  and 
their  true  hearts,  they  shall  be  with  her  again, 
and  with  her  forever. 

2.  There  is  the  other  tendency  of  which  I 
spoke,  the  tendency  to  return  to  our  father's  God 
and  to  rest  in  Him.  For  religion  is  as  natural 
toward  the  Eternal  as  love  in  our  homes.    It  is 


192  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

the  feeling  for  the  Infinite  to  whom  we  stand 
as  creature  to  Creator,  as  dependent  to  Abso- 
lute, as  child  to  the  Eternal  Father.  That  there 
should  be  feeling  of  a  certain  kind  for  God  is 
as  natural,  as  inevitable,  as  that  there  should  be 
feeling  of  a  certain  kind  for  a  father  or  mother. 
And  that  we  should  go  with  our  kindred  here, 
that  we  should  discover  a  tendency  to  trust  and 
serve  the  Lord  God  of  our  fathers,  is  surely  not 
at  all  strange.  Here  again  we  note,  in  a  general 
way,  three  epochs. 

Look  at  the  child  once  more.  It  lives  in  the 
life  of  its  parents.  It  looks  out  upon  the  world 
through  their  eyes.  It  beholds  the  universe  in 
their  vision.  It  kneels  with  them  in  prayer ;  its 
first  devout  utterance  is  through  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  It  is  led  in  reverence  to  Jesus  as  the 
great  Teacher.  It  unfolds  its  life  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  God.  It  lives  and  moves  and  has 
its  being  in  the  circle  of  Christian  faith ;  it 
accepts  God  as  it  accepts  the  common  heritage  of 
existence.  Kindred  is  one  of  the  precious  facts 
in  the  existence  of  the  fortunate  child.  With 
the  sense  of  kindred  comes  the  happy  experience 
of  good,  the  consciousness  of  life  as  beloved. 
And  God,  the  lover  of  children,  their  defender 
and  friend,  is  bound  up  with  the  deep  and  loving 
hearts  of  kindred.  In  this  way  the  normal  and 
fortunate  child  comes  to  believe  in  God. 


THE  INHERITANCE  OF  FAITH         193 

How  natural  religion  is  to  such  a  child  !  How 
easily  its  mind  is  turned  into  the  stream  of  a 
mother's  devotion  !  How  easily  and  completely 
it  joins  in  the  reverence  and  faith  of  the  home ! 
How  thoroughly  such  a  child  feels  that  religion 
is  part  of  the  life  of  the  home,  that  God  is  the 
soul  of  the  world's  order,  beauty,  and  being ! 
How  touching  it  is  to  listen  to  the  prayers  of 
a  child !  They  are  so  real.  They  so  completely 
carry  the  child  into  the  divine  world.  This  is 
the  first  epoch.  The  child  awakes  in  the  deep, 
sweet,  mystic  sense  of  the  Lord  God  of  its 
fathers.  This  God  is  part  of  its  treasure ;  He  is 
to  be  loved,  trusted,  rejoiced  in,  as  the  song-bird 
rejoices  in  the  deep,  infinite  sunshine. 

Then  follows  youth,  and  this  child-religion  is 
transcended.  I  have  never  known  a  person  in 
whom  there  was  not  some  kind  of  a  break  with 
the  past  when  youth  came.  The  social  world  is 
one  great  disturber.  It  absorbs  the  young  life, 
feeds  it  with  excitements  that  make  religious 
feeling  less  apt  to  flow,  that  make  religious  feel- 
ing seem  tame  when  it  does  flow.  The  world  of 
books  and  of  intellectual  problems  rushes  in  to 
engage  and  to  perplex  the  awakening  mind.  The 
youth  begins  to  question  and  to  doubt.  A  nega- 
tive mood  takes  the  place  of  the  old  positive 
faith,  and  a  cold  heart  waits  upon  this  negation. 
The  world  of  business  puts  in  its  great  claim. 


194  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

Manhood  has  a  struggle  here.  New  prospects 
dawn  upon  youth.  New  ambitions  rise  in  its 
heart;  glorious  seas  of  passion  come  beating 
in,  as  from  the  Infinite.  Here  is  a  world  to  be 
conquered,  to  be  possessed,  to  be  enjoyed.  It 
tends  to  break  up  that  old  world  of  childhood  ; 
it  is  apt  to  throw  into  insignificance  the  reali- 
ties of  faith.  Religion  gives  way  to  a  strenuous 
humanity ;  it  is  not  distinctly  seen  among  the 
forces  that  make  up  the  great,  seething  world 
of  youth.  Religion,  at  this  period,  for  many 
of  our  finest  youth,  fades  into  a  memory,  —  a 
sweet,  a  gracious,  a  hallowing  memory,  but  only 
a  memory.  Time,  sense,  temporal  ends,  earthly 
interests,  worldly  ambitions,  human  tastes,  at- 
tainments, passions,  and  hopes  make  the  troubled 
but  tremendous  world  of  youth. 

One  thing  must  be  said  here.  The  problem 
presented  at  this  period  of  transition  is  one  of 
the  most  fundamental  and  vital  in  human  exist- 
ence. Whether  we  shall  be  victorious  or  de- 
feated, successes  or  wrecks  ;  whether  our  human- 
ity shall  be  a  blessing  to  us  or  a  curse ;  whether 
all  the  grace  and  melody  shall  go  out  of  it,  or 
it  shall  become  richer  in  great,  singing  voices 
with  the  passing  years,  depends  upon  how  we  go 
into  our  new  world  of  enterprise,  of  thought,  of 
love  and  joy  and  suffering.  Shall  we  master  this 
new  world  in  the  name  of  the  Highest?    Shall 


THE  INHERITANCE  OF  FAITH  195 

we  possess  and  govern  it  in  the  name  of  the 
ideal  ?  There  is  no  deeper  or  more  vital  ques- 
tion than  that.  Look  at  that  fair  young  woman 
floating  out  from  the  piety  of  her  kindred  into 
an  enchanting  world  of  her  own.  Is  she  to  go 
from  good  to  better,  from  better  to  best ;  or 
is  she  to  become  a  poor,  soiled  butterfly  on  the 
dusty  ways  of  life?  Look  at  that  yoimg  man 
going  forth  radiant  and  resolute  as  the  morning  ? 
Is  he  going  to  victory  or  defeat  ? 

The  third  epoch  is  dependent  upon  our  be- 
havior in  this  second  epoch.  If  we  keep  truth 
with  ourselves  during  this  period  of  alienation 
from  the  historic  Christian  faith,  if  in  the  world 
of  our  wild  and  serious  interests  we  keep  our 
heart  with  all  diligence,  if  in  this  scene  of  con- 
fusion and  contamination  we  strive  for  the  life 
of  the  undefiled,  if  we  attain  to  what  we  call 
our  God,  our  ideal,  our  governing  and  consoling 
faith,  we  shall  at  length  begin  a  return  to  our 
fathers'  God.  In  that  historic  faith,  in  that  high 
religious  experience,  in  that  supreme  life  of  our 
race,  we  shall  find  ourselves  at  our  best.  We 
shall  find  there,  deep  in  the  holiest  heart  of  our 
kindred,  our  kind,  the  sanctuary  of  our  souls. 
We  shall  find  there  the  infinite  solace  and  peace. 

As  we  deepen  in  humanity,  as  our  best  sym- 
pathies grow  and  come  to  the  command  of  our 
being,  as  we  become  greater  and  finer  in  the  ser- 


196  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

vice  of  man,  we  shall  inevitably,  in  one  way 
or  another,  become  sharers  in  the  best  life  of  our 
kind.  As  the  burden  of  the  good  and  pure  heart 
grows  heavier,  it  becomes  as  natural  to  believe 
in  God  as  it  was  when  we  first  spoke  his  name 
at  our  mother's  side.  When  things  are  as  they 
should  be,  we  gravitate  toward  God  as  the  fall- 
ing body  gravitates  toward  the  earth.  His  reality 
then  comes  upon  us  with  an  amazing  sweetness 
and  an  overwhelming  convincingness.  Time, 
that  takes  away  so  much,  may  leave  us  with  the 
sense  of  closer,  surer,  happier  life  in  the  dear 
life  of  God,  our  fathers'  God,  the  God  of  our 
kindred  and  our  kind,  in  whose  strength  we  were 
born,  in  whose  love  we  were  nurtured,  in  whose 
being  our  minds  were  formed  through  the  gra- 
cious humanities  of  home  before  we  awoke  to 
the  problem  and  sorrow  of  the  individual  will. 
To  come  back  to  that  faith,  deep,  vast,  tender, 
sublime  with  the  testimony  of  the  supreme  spirits 
of  the  race  behind  it,  with  the  record  of  all  the 
triumphant  sons  and  daughters  of  sorrow  set  in 
its  light,  is  a  return  which  may  be  made  by  every 
man.  Oh,  that  journey  back  to  the  Eternal 
Father,  back  to  the  Lord  God  of  our  fathers, 
back  to  the  Heart  out  of  which  came  the  hearts 
of  our  fathers  and  mothers,  back  to  the  abo- 
riginal source  of  all  love,  all  tenderness,  and 
all  hope  !    What  a  return  is  that !    Our  human- 


THE  INHERITANCE  OF  FAITH  197 

ity  at  its  best  came  from  God,  and  when  it  is 
true  to  its  deepest  tendency,  it  returns  to  Him. 

Both  of  these  tendencies  of  which  I  have 
spoken  receive  illustration  and  sanction  from  our 
Master's  life.  He  was  a  child ;  he  lived  in  his 
mother's  world.  Then  came  his  own  vast  world, 
of  which  he  took  possession  by  the  spirit  of  his 
Father.  On  the  cross  he  returned  to  the  dear 
world  into  which  he  was  born,  his  mother's 
world,  and  whispered  from  the  centres  of  pain  : 
"Woman,  behold  thy  son;  son,  behold  thy 
mother."  Is  it  not  profoundly  moving  and  pro- 
foundly beautiful  to  see  Jesus  dying  in  the 
strength  of  the  old  home  in  Nazareth?  Then 
there  is  the  other  return.  Jesus  was  the  flower 
of  a  great  race,  its  consummate  expression  ;  and 
another  of  the  great  utterances  that  fell  from 
his  dying  lips  was  this  :  "  Father,  into  thy  hands 
I  commend  my  spirit."  These  are  words  from 
one  of  the  Psalms,  repeated  before  him  by  many 
generations  of  the  wise  and  brave  of  his  race. 
Back  to  his  mother's  home  and  heart ;  back 
to  his  mother's  God,  to  the  Lord  God  of  his 
fathers,  Jesus  came  ;  and  in  the  strength  of  an 
historic  humanity  transfigured  in  the  life  of 
God,  no  less  than  in  the  strength  of  his  own 
spotless  soul,  he  went  as  the  sun  goes  when 
the  day  is  done. 

I  sometimes  think  that  we  do  not  know  the 


198  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

stuff  of  which  we  are  made.  Oh,  the  fires  of  love 
within,  hidden  and  unsuspected,  the  slumber- 
ing music,  the  unawakened  manhood !  Oh,  the 
unsounded  depths  of  this  rich,  dear,  and  awful 
humanity  that  God  has  given  us  !  How  cheap  we 
hold  our  priceless  possession  !  How  far  we  travel, 
seeking  good,  and  forgetting  the  angel  at  our 
door,  the  Divine  presence  in  our  own  being! 
When  this  mysterious  humanity  stirs  within 
us,  let  us  wait  upon  it.  This  stir  is  our  life  and 
our  hope.  When  the  tide  sets  back  to  our  fathers, 
let  us  go  with  it ;  when,  with  deep,  silent  strength, 
it  sets  toward  our  fathers'  God,  let  us  begin  upon 
it  the  great  return. 


XI 
THE  GRACE  OF  KINDNESS 

"  And  be  ye  kind  one  to  another." 

Ephesians  iv,  32. 

What  is  the  highest  human  excellence?  If 
you  should  put  that  question  to  a  group  of  men 
and  women,  you  would  note  in  the  replies  that 
might  be  made  a  very  great  difference  of  opinion. 
Some  would  say  one  thing,  some  another.  Put 
the  question  to  a  normal  child,  anywhere  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  and  there  could  be  but  one 
answer.  Go  back  into  the  fair  morning  of  youi 
life,  recall  the  time  when  the  world  was  new, 
when  everything  came  to  you  in  the  mystery 
of  fresh  experience,  and  ask  the  question,  Who 
were  they  that  interested  and  delighted  you 
most  in  that  golden  age  ? 

Personally,  1  have  done  that  a  hundred  times. 
I  have  gone  back  into  the  morning  of  life, 
and  looked  again  upon  the  men  and  women  who 
then  compassed  me  about.  There  were  men  and 
women  saintly,  truly  so,  and  I  regret  to  say  that 
I  did  not  like  them.  There  were  the  supremely 
conscientious  persons,  whose  worth  and  grandeur 
I  can  now  see,  and  they  impressed  me  then  as 


200  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

amoug  the  gloomiest  and  most  unattractive  peo- 
ple in  the  world.  They  took  the  brightness  out 
of  the  day,  the  zest  out  of  life.  There  were  the 
men  of  courage,  and  they  were  better.  This  fault, 
however,  I  found  in  them  :  a  scorn  of  weakness, 
a  careless  contempt  of  children.  Then  came  the 
patriots,  the  men  who  loved  their  country  with 
a  great  love,  and  who  filled  my  mind  with  inspir- 
ing tales  of  their  country's  power  and  majesty. 
I  remember  the  passionate  interest  with  which 
I  listened  to  these  tales,  although  I  must  con- 
fess that  I  had  my  doubts  about  the  truth  of 
some  of  these  glorious  traditions.  But  high 
above  all  the  persons  of  that  early  period  are  the 
kind  people.  I  can  see  them,  at  the  far  end  of 
a  long  vista,  with  the  light  of  God  shining  in 
their  faces.  There  they  remain  in  that  silent 
world,  images  of  beauty  and  humanity,  wearing 
looks  that  then  seemed,  and  that  still  seem,  the 
best  symbol  of  heaven,  playmates,  some  of  them 
forever  vanished  and  yet  unforgettable  ;  dear  old 
mothers  and  grandmothers,  who  were  fascinat- 
ing simply  because  of  their  unweariable  kind- 
ness. The  king  of  them  all  was  an  old  soldier, 
who  had  fought  through  the  Crimean  war,  and 
from  whom,  during  the  long,  long  days  of  the 
happiest  of  all  the  summers  of  my  life,  I  never 
received  anything  but  kind  looks,  kind  words, 
and  kind  deeds.    How  this  man  could  be  so  kind 


THE  GRACE  OF  KINDNESS  201 

for  so  long  a  time  has  always  seemed  to  me  an 
inscrutable  mystery.  The  man  whom  a  child, 
from  sunrise  to  sunset,  cannot  torment  into  an 
unkind  look  or  word  or  act  is  a  great  man. 
Such  a  man  was  the  king  of  the  reahn  of  my 
childhood.  I  have  seen  again  and  again  the 
meadows  in  which  he  toiled,  and  in  their  lonely 
loveliness  lives  the  beauty  of  his  spirit ;  I  have 
wandered  among  the  farm-buildings  where  he 
spent  so  much  of  his  time,  and  the  silent  and 
vacant  places  still  seemed  to  belong  to  him.  I 
have  stood  by  the  river  on  whose  banks  he  sowed 
and  reaped,  and  the  ceaseless  rush  of  the  waters 
over  their  stony  bed  seemed  to  be  a  kind  of 
requiem  for  the  repose  of  his  soul.  What  is  the 
highest  human  excellence?  All  the  children  in 
all  the  world  answer,  Kindness.  Lift  this  answer 
and  call  it  Christian  kindness,  and  I  believe  it 
will  stand  as  the  final  answer. 

In  considering  the  Grace  of  Kindness  we  can, 
perhaps,  best  get  at  the  heart  of  the  matter  by 
asking,  and  by  trying  to  answer,  certain  questions. 

1.  The  first  question  is.  What  is  kindness  ?  The 
word  is  one  of  the  very  greatest  in  our  langaiage. 
It  has  suffered  a  good  deal  from  misuse.  It  has 
lost  something  of  its  strength  and  dignity  from 
careless  tongues.  It  is  sometimes  employed  to 
denote  the  inofPensiveness  of  a  useless  person, 
the  gush  of  a  mere  sentimentalist,  the  ready  and 


202  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

happy  assent  of  an  individual  whose  desire  is  to 
sit  still,  or  the  emotional  excess  of  perfect  physi- 
cal health.  There  are  persons  whose  physical  ex- 
istence is  so  perfect,  and  whose  pleasure  in  them- 
selves is  so  abundant,  that  the  overflow  of  their 
emotions  is  sometimes  mistaken  for  kindness. 

We  must  recover  this  great  word  to  its  natu- 
ral meaning.  Kindness  stands  for  the  feeling  of 
one  for  his  race,  and  that  feehng  the  highest ; 
it  stands  for  one's  interest  in  one's  kind,  and 
that  interest  the  loftiest.  Kindness  implies  in  a 
man  toward  men  an  attitude  of  the  intelligence, 
an  attitude  of  the  heart,  an  attitude  of  the  will. 
The  kind  man  holds  in  a  considerate  intelligence 
the  lives  of  other  men  and  their  varying  fortunes 
in  this  world.  The  kind  man  holds  in  a  pure  and 
sympathetic  heart  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  other 
men  under  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day,  and 
their  joys  and  sorrows.  The  kind  man  has  a 
grave  and  humane  purpose  ;  that  is  the  attitude 
of  his  will  toward  his  race.  He  is  full  of  respect, 
full  of  honor,  full  of  high  consideration  for  his 
fellow  men.  The  thoughts  and  feelings  and  pur- 
poses of  the  kind  man  have  in  them  a  sweet 
reasonableness,  a  healing  grace,  a  high  benignity. 
Kindness  is  the  seed  and  the  flower  of  all  human 
excellence ;  it  is  like  the  seed  from  which  the 
magnolia-tree  comes,  and  it  is  like  the  flower 
into  which  that  tree  lifts  itself  in  the  early  days 


THE  GRACE  OF  KINDNESS  203 

of  June.  It  is  the  great,  vital  expression  of  all 
excellence,  the  deepest  root  of  the  noblest  human- 
ity, and  its  consummate  flower. 

We  can  aU  see  that  it  implies  feUow-feeling, 
racial  sympathy,  family  love  set  free  from  family 
limits  and  encircling  the  world.  And  this  pri- 
mary element  of  racial  sympathy  may  be  either 
natural  or  acquired.  All  men  do  not  possess  it 
naturally,  in  any  large  way.  AU  may  possess  it. 
The  man  who  wrote  the  Odyssey,  for  example, 
had  a  natural  delight  in  human  beings.  Those 
gods  and  goddesses,  so  full  of  faults,  are  yet 
warm  and  rich,  and  often  beautiful  with  human- 
ity. His  women  charm  forever,  —  Nausicaa  and 
Penelope.  Read  again  the  eleventh  chapter  of 
the  Odyssey,  and  note  once  more  this  man's 
deep,  pathetic,  and  mystic  interest  in  man  and 
man's  world.  Shakespeare's  world  is  a  world 
of  human  beings.  Part  of  the  witchery  of  his 
genius  is  in  making  us  share  something  of  his 
insight  into  man's  world  and  his  delight  in  it. 
The  songs  of  Burns,  —  what  are  they  but  jets 
from  the  perennial  fountain  of  his  humanity  ? 

There  are  many  high  souls  to  whom  this  inter- 
est in  man  is  not  native.  Wordsworth  says  of 
Milton :  "  Thy  soul  was  like  a  Star,  and  dwelt 
apart."  Milton  was  not  naturally  kind.  He 
was  austere,  majestic,  solitary,  exceptional  in  his 
tastes  and  character.    If  he  ever  became  kind,  it 


204  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

was  through  achievement.  And  Wordsworth  him- 
self was  not  naturally  fond  of  human  beings.  He 
loved  the  hills,  the  meadows,  the  streams,  and  the 
rainbow  that  comes  and  goes ;  he  preferred  the 
great  solitudes  and  the  sweet  and  austere  voices 
of  nature  to  those  of  man.  He  came,  indeed,  to 
sing  of  the  "  still  sad  music  of  humanity,"  but  this 
he  did  through  discipline  and  achievement.  And 
supreme  in  this  class  stands  the  author  of  the 
text,  —  Paul.  He  was  naturally  exclusive.  He 
went  for  years  in  the  proud  consciousness  that 
he  was  a  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews,  of  the  tribe 
of  Benjamin,  a  Pharisee  of  the  Pharisees.  He 
was  proud,  self-conscious,  masterful,  magnificent, 
as  a  Pharisee,  but  he  was  not  kind.  It  was  the 
vision  of  Jesus  Christ  that  made  this  aristocratic 
soul  one  of  the  most  democratic  that  ever  lived. 
One  can  imagine  the  strangeness  to  him  of  his 
Lord's  command,  "  Behold,  I  send  thee  far  hence 
unto  the  Gentiles."  "  What  ?  To  the  Gentiles  ? 
Not  to  my  own  nation  ?  Not  even  to  the  Samari- 
tans ?  "  "  No ;  but  to  Greeks  and  Romans,  Bar- 
barians and  Scythians,  bond  and  free ;  I  have 
chosen  you  to  be  the  far-sighted  and  deep-hearted 
servant  of  the  whole  race."  Paid  was  not  dis- 
obedient unto  the  heavenly  vision.  And  to-day 
he  stands,  as  he  will  forever  stand,  an  example 
of  the  racial  sympathy  that  is  the  primary  force 
in  kindness. 


THE  GRACE  OF  KINDNESS  205 

The  second  thing  in  kindness  is  the  sense 
of  the  greatness  and  pathos  of  human  life.  The 
sense  of  the  greatness  of  life  comes  first.  Life  is 
so  great  from  every  point  of  view,  —  its  achieve- 
ment, loss,  sin,  capacity,  hope,  —  that  the  poetry 
which  prefers  nature  to  man  seems  to  me  mere 
vaporing.  Man's  world  is  so  intrinsically  and 
tragically  great  that  one  finds  it  difficult  to 
tolerate  the  writers  who  abandon  humanity  for 
nature.  They  are  indeed  seekers  after  strange 
gods,  with  a  sad  and  wanton  perversity  in  them. 
Take  science.  It  is  the  one  word  for  the  vast- 
ness,  the  order,  and  the  splendor  of  the  physical 
universe.  Certain  persons  cry  out.  How  little  is 
man  in  the  presence  of  the  universe  unveiled  by 
science  !  Yes,  and  how  great  is  the  intelligence 
that  has  discovered  that  same  universe  !  The 
universe  of  science  is  first  of  all  the  shadow  of 
man's  greatness.  Every  extension  of  the  bound- 
aries of  science  is  a  new  witness  to  the  magni- 
tude of  man. 

There  is  literature.  How  great  is  literature, 
English,  German,  Italian,  Greek,  and,  above  aU, 
Hebrew  literature !  What  a  wondrous  thing  is 
the  literature,  the  classic  literature,  of  the  world  ! 
And  in  its  final  meaning,  what  is  it  but  the  wit- 
ness to  the  tragic  and  transcendent  greatness  of 
man  ?  When  we  appeal  to  the  fine  arts,  do  they 
not  all  sing  the  same  song?   Poetry,  music,  paint- 


206  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

ing,  sculpture,  building,  —  can  you  call  the  race 
other  than  great  that  has  articulated  its  thought 
and  sentiment,  its  intelligence  and  passion,  in 
forms  so  high  and  beautiful  ? 

There  is,  too,  the  world  of  industry.  As  an 
organization  of  the  instinctive  reason  of  man  it 
is  amazing.  Kipling  calls  the  ships  that  carry 
the  commerce  of  the  world  the  flying  shuttles  of 
the  loom  that  is  weaving  into  one  many  peoples. 
Vast  wrongs,  needless  sufferings,  are  inflicted  by 
man  upon  man  in  the  world  of  trade  ;  yet  trade 
is  a  civilizer.  The  great  loom  is  forever  active; 
these  flying  shuttles  are  threaded  with  some- 
thing finer  than  greed,  they  are  threaded  with 
the  sense  of  man's  needfulness  to  man  ;  they  are 
moving  to  and  fro  over  the  wide  earth  ;  the  fabric 
that  is  slowly  issuing  is  the  unity  of  the  race, 
and  the  pattern  in  this  fabric  is  the  brotherhood 
of  our  kind.  This  Institute  of  trade  that  at  spe- 
cial points  is  so  inhuman,  that  over  wide  fields  of 
activity  appears  so  wanting  in  moral  worth,  that 
in  general  seems  sometimes  to  be  a  scene  of  wild 
and  endless  contention,  an  embodiment  of  mad 
egoism,  and  yet  of  an  egoism  whose  madness  i? 
under  severe  restraint  in  order  that  it  may  the 
more  completely  plunder  and  desolate,  is  other 
and  greater  than  we  know.  It  is  set  in  the  moral 
order  of  the  world ;  it  is  set  for  the  help  of  man. 
It  is  one  vast  expression  of  the  instinctive  reason 


TEE  GRACE  OF  KINDNESS  207 

of  the  race  ;  it  is  one  of  the  most  impressive  wit- 
nesses to  the  greatness  of  mankind.  Civilization 
as  the  sum  of  the  material  and  spiritual  acquisi- 
tions of  man  is  a  monumental  witness  to  the  dig- 
nity of  human  life.  Survey  this  achievement,  and 
you  will,  with  the  Hebrew  Psahnist,  assert  the 
sovereign  place  of  man  in  the  universe  ;  survey 
it,  and  you  will  with  him  declare  that  God  has 
made  man  only  a  little  lower  than  himself. 

The  kind  man  carries  about  with  him  the 
sense  of  the  majesty  of  the  race  to  which  he  be- 
longs. He  is  grateful  that  he  was  born  a  human 
being,  happy  to  have  been  made  a  sharer  in  the 
ideals,  the  sympathies,  the  hopes  of  a  great  race, 
glad  to  think  and  love  and  serve  as  the  inheritor 
of  sublime  achievements. 

There  is,  however,  another  side.  There  is  the 
pathos  of  life.  Burke's  great  words  are  an  im- 
age of  life :  "  What  shadows  we  are,  and  what 
shadows  we  pursue ! "  The  greatness  of  man  is 
in  part  the  greatness  of  a  tragedy.  Agamemnon, 
Antigone,  Hamlet,  Lear,  are  poor  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  eonian  misunderstanding,  perver- 
sity, conflict,  heartbreak,  defeat,  and  death  of 
humanity.  These  classic  dramas  are  windows 
through  which  the  student  looks  upon  the  tragic 
world ;  the  world  itself  is  beyond,  wide-reaching, 
wild,  mysterious,  terrible  with  woe. 

It  is  the  function  of  tragedy  to  excite  pity  and 


208  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

thus  to  purify  the  heart.  The  kind  man  cannot 
look  upon  this  vast  scene  of  error  and  pain  with- 
out pity.  His  heart  is  moved  with  compassion. 
He  beholds  the  sorrow  of  the  world ;  it  becomes 
his  sorrow.  It  is  this  that  makes  him  the  pure 
and  tender  friend  that  he  is.  He  lives  near  to 
the  suffering  souls  of  his  fellow  men  ;  he  sees  the 
wreck  and  the  heartbreak  in  life ;  he  notes  the 
swiftly  passing  beauty  of  it  all,  — 

"like  the  rainbow's  lovely  form 
Evauishing  amid  the  storm,"  — 

and   his    compassionate    heart    elects    to    suffer 

with  his  kind  and  wait  in  benign  pity  upon  its 

need. 

There  is  still  another  element  in  kindness  that 

we  must  note,  —  service.    This  is  the  meaning 

of  the  Good  Samaritan  story.    The  Priest  and 

the  Levite  may  have  had  many  virtues,  although 

no  record  of  this  possession  has  come  down  to  us, 

but    there  was    one    thing    in  which  they  were 

deficient,    and    that    one    thing    was    kindness. 

They  refused  help  to  a  fellow  man  in  distress. 

They  refused  it  in  the  name  of  religion ;  they 

count    for  nothing,   and    they   stand    for    those 

who  count  for  nothing  in  the  holy  and  humane 

service  of  man.    Whatever  his  defects,  the  Good 

Samaritan  had  this  one  superlative  excellence : 

he  knew  an  unfortunate  human  being  when  he 

saw  him,  he  knew,  when  he  heard  it,  the  divine 


THE  GRACE  OF  KINDNESS  209 

call  of  humanity,  he  knew,  when  it  confronted 
him,  the  supreme  privdlege  of  his  life,  and  he 
took  the  bleeding  victim  of  robbery  and  outrage, 
poured  oil  and  wine  into  his  wounds,  set  him  on 
his  own  beast,  carried  him  to  an  inn,  took  out 
two  pence  and  gave  them  to  the  host,  and  closed 
the  service  of  compassion  with  this  fine  charge 
and  pledge :  "  Take  care  of  him ;  and  whatso- 
ever thou  spendest  more,  I,  when  I  come  back 
again,  will  repay  thee." 

2.  The  second  question  has  been  somewhat  an- 
ticipated in  these  last  words :  What  is  the  spe- 
cial power  of  kindness  ?  We  break  new  ground, 
however,  in  answering  this  question.  The  special 
power  of  kindness  is  that  it  abolishes  a  world  of 
pain,  and  bi-ings  into  the  vacant  place  a  world 
of  joy.  There  is  so  much  irremediable  suffering 
in  the  world.  There  are  so  many  bodily  ills 
that  cannot  be  cured  or  even  alleviated,  so  many 
mental  troubles  that  cannot  be  removed  or  even 
mitigated,  so  many  sorrows  that  cannot  be  done 
away  or  even  sweetened.  That  tragic  world  we 
wander  in,  helpless,  or  nearly  helpless.  That 
world  of  woe  must  be  rolled  back  upon  the 
heart  of  God.  It  is  his  problem,  and  we  cannot 
doubt  that  He  will  meet  it  to  the  supreme  satis- 
faction of  every  reasonable  soul.  That  world  of 
irremediable  pain  we  leave  with  Him ;  we  await 
his  dealing  with  it. 


210  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

There  is  a  world  of  pain  that  need  not  be; 
a  world  born  of  sour  looks,  ungracious  speech, 
unmanly  action,  a  world  that  harrows  the  hearts 
of  millions.  Kindness  wipes  that  vast  and  dismal 
world  out  of  existence. 

We  read  about  fashionable  society.  We  hear 
that  in  London,  Paris,  Berlin,  and  Boston  there 
is  such  society.  We  hear  that  certain  persons 
are  anxious  to  get  into  this  society,  and  if  half 
that  is  said  of  its  spirit  is  true,  these  persons 
might  with  more  safety  cherish  a  desire  to  get 
into  a  nest  of  hornets.  Oh,  the  lies  that  people 
tell  of  one  another !  Oh,  the  cruel  falsehoods 
that  they  utter  and  scatter  !  The  power  to  sting, 
to  inflict  pain,  to  add  to  the  burden  and  misery 
of  life,  is  carefully  cultivated,  and  the  methods 
by  which  it  works  reduced  to  a  fine  art. 

What  is  the  trouble  with  our  family  life? 
Unkindness.  What  is  the  bane  of  business  life  ? 
Unkindness.  What  is  the  central  shame  of  our 
American  social  life  ?  Unkindness.  Job  had  his 
Satan  —  accusing  him,  dogging  his  steps  with 
suspicion  and  unbelief,  smiting  him  first  in  his 
property,  second  in  his  family,  and  last  in  his 
health,  snatching  from  him  in  the  end  his  capa- 
city for  resistance,  taking  as  it  were  the  rudder 
from  the  sliip,  after  having  destroyed  her  power 
of  propulsion.  This  same  Satan,  in  the  form 
of  unkindness,  is  still  walking  to  and  fro  in  the 


THE  GRACE  OF  KINDNESS  211 

earth,  unbelieving,  cynical,  frivolous,  heartless, 
relentless,  and  armed  with  power  to  afflict  and 
curse  mankind. 

Kindness  meets  this  vast  and  lurid  world  of 
needless  pain,  and  annihilates  it.  Kindness  de- 
stroys its  sources.  Kindness  abolishes  sour  looks, 
malicious  speech,  wicked  deeds  ;  and  where  these 
do  not  exist,  that  world  of  needless  pain  cannot 
come  into  being.  When  the  sun  is  low,  winter 
comes,  and  the  earth  is  dead,  and  the  streets  are 
cold ;  and  while  winter  reigns,  multitudes  lead 
a  shivering  existence.  When  the  sim  is  high,  the 
world  of  winter  vanishes  ;  the  world  of  summer 
comes,  with  its  song-birds,  its  blossoming  trees, 
its  opening  flowers,  its  green  earth,  and  its  happy 
hiunanity.  Kindness  is  like  the  sun.  Its  absence 
means  a  frost,  a  killing  frost ;  it  means  blight 
and  gloom  ;  it  means  a  world  of  pain  that  need 
not  be  imposed  upon  a  world  of  pain  that  must 
be.  It  means  day-labor,  light  denied,  —  the  light 
of  human  sympathy  and  brotherhood.  Every- 
thing that  Midas  touched  became  gold.  Every- 
thing that  the  kind  man  touches  becomes  bright 
with  tender  and  shining  humanity.  Everywhere 
that  the  kind  man  goes  he  brings  into  being  price- 
less things,  —  golden  sympathies,  radiant  faces, 
glowing  and  grateful  hearts.  The  kind  man,  the 
kind  woman,  is  the  magician  for  whom  the  world 
waits. 


212  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

3.  Finally,  how  shall  we  increase  this  form  of 
human  excellence  ?  In  many  ways  this  can  be 
done,  but  chiefly  by  living  with  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  He  took  twelve  quarrelsome  fishermen, 
subdued  them  to  his  own  spirit,  and  sent  them 
forth  apostles  of  kindness.  Jesus  is  himself  the 
incarnation  of  kindness.  Look  at  his  human 
sympathy.  When  he  appeared  among  men,  the 
world  was  divided  into  Jews  and  Samaritans  and 
Gentiles.  The  Jews  were  divided  into  Sadducees 
and  Pharisees,  publicans  and  sinners.  Inside 
these  divisions  there  were  others  still,  bitter  as 
death.  Jesus  overswept  all  these  unhallowed 
limits.  He  took  the  whole  world  to  his  heart. 
Look  at  his  delight  in  men.  He  loved  men,  — 
Levi  the  publican,  Zaccheus  the  publican,  Nico- 
demus  the  ruler,  and  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  the 
family  at  Bethany,  the  weary  race  of  sorrowing 
mothers  and  their  sick  sons  and  daughters,  and 
the  little  children.  You  cannot  think  of  the 
Teacher  who  took  the  children  into  his  arms  and 
blessed  them  as  other  than  fond  of  the  race  of 
which  he  was  the  head.  And  did  he  not  have  a 
sense  of  the  greatness  and  pathos  of  life  ?  What 
are  his  words  for  these  aspects  of  our  existence  ? 
Sons  of  God !  There  is  the  greatness  of  men. 
And  Jesus  has  lifted  Christendom  into  the  sense 
of  sonhood  to  God.  That  Christian  conscious- 
ness of  aboriginal  and   inalienable  sonhood  to 


THE  GRACE  OF  KINDNESS  213 

God  has  broken  up  and  swept  away  a  whole  sys- 
tem of  theology  opposed  to  it,  notwithstanding 
fifteen  centuries  of  existence  and  influence.  Sons 
of  God  by  the  native  dignity  of  the  soul ;  that  is 
Jesus'  way  of  declaring  his  sense  of  the  great- 
ness of  man.  And  for  the  pathos  of  life  hear  his 
words :  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and 
are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  His 
life  is  the  ideal  of  service.  He  went  about  doing 
good.    He  was  the  sunshine  of  the  world. 

Think  of  this  mind  that  held  in  such  divine 
regard  all  orders  and  conditions  of  men,  —  little 
children,  frail  women,  invalids,  sinners,  outcasts, 
all  classes  of  human  beings,  just  as  the  great  sky 
holds  in  its  serene  heart  the  entire  earth.  We 
should  be  willing  to  rest  the  supremacy  of  Jesus 
upon  the  sovereignty  of  his  concern  for  mankind. 
He  had  greater  consideration  for  the  world  than 
any  one  else,  a  diviner  sympath}'^,  and  his  whole 
life  was  pitched  upon  the  key  of  service.  His 
ministry  as  the  ideal  expression  of  his  mind  and 
heart  has  won  for  him  among  all  reasonable 
and  aspiring  spirits  recognition  as  the  leader 
and  master  of  men.  To  live  with  Jesus  Christ, 
to  be  subject  to  his  soul ;  that  is  the  great  assur- 
ance of  kindness.  And  the  more  intimately  and 
devoutly  we  live  with  him,  the  swifter  and  surer 
will  be  our  growth  in  kindness. 

What  is   our   religion  ?    It  is   the  grace   of 


214  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  though  he  was  rich, 
yet  for  our  sakes  became  poor,  that  we  through 
his  poverty  might  become  rich.  What  is  our 
religion  ?  It  is  the  loving-kindness  and  tender 
mercy  of  God  revealed  to  the  world  in  the 
teaching,  ministry,  life,  death,  and  resurrection 
of  Jesus  Christ.  What  is  our  religion  ?  It  is 
the  loving-kindness  of  Jesus  Christ  as  the  assur- 
ance of  the  tender  mercy  of  the  Most  High. 
We  have  a  human  God,  one  whose  highest  attri- 
bute is  not  justice,  but  kindness,  not  supreme 
regard  for  law,  but  supreme  concern  for  man. 


XII 

THE  GREAT  QUESTION 

What  is  your  life  ? 

James  iv,  14. 

A  GREATER  question  than  this  no  man  can  put 
to  himself,  no  man  can  put  to  another.  The 
question  concerns  the  real  and  not  the  conven- 
tional man,  therefore  the  conventional  answers 
do  not  meet  the  case.  Wealth,  position,  learning, 
power,  fame,  significant  for  the  undiscerning, 
are  superficial.  The  real  man  is  in  the  depths, 
the  infinite  depths.  We  are  inquiring  now  not 
for  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  existence,  but 
for  its  essential  and  veritable  character.  We 
wish  to  know  not  its  dress,  but  itself,  its  inmost 
heart. 

The  writer  from  whom  the  words  of  the  text 
are  taken  gives  one  answer :  "  What  is  your 
life  ?  For  ye  are  a  vapor,  that  appeareth  for  a 
little  while,  and  then  vanisheth  away."  What 
he  meant  by  this  comparison  we  may  perhaps 
discern  in  the  feeling  of  another  writer  upon 
life.  Dr.  John  Brown,  in  his  inimitable  "  Rab 
and  his  Friends,"  describes  with  the  fidelity  of 
science  and  with  the  pathos  of  a  Christian  the 


216  THBOUGH  MAN  TO   GOD 

death  of  the  old  carter's  wife,  Ailie.  The  old 
man  is  not  sure  whether  his  beloved  wife  is  still 
with  him.  There  is  no  pulse  at  the  wrist.  The 
beat  of  the  heart  cannot  be  heard.  He  takes 
a  mirror  and  holds  it  before  the  parted  lips  of 
the  dying  woman.  One  small  spot  of  dimness 
appears  on  it,  and  no  more.  The  faithful  mirror 
has  caught  the  final  breath.  What  is  your  life? 
It  is  a  vapor  that  appeareth  for  a  little  while, 
and  then  vanisheth  away.  That  is  one  answer, 
and  all  human  history  attests  its  great  and 
pathetic  truth. 

That  is,  however,  only  one  answer  among 
many.  What  is  your  life?  Just  what  you 
please  to  make  it.  It  is  your  life,  it  is  largely 
in  your  own  hands.  You  can  make  it  a  thing 
of  honor  or  of  shame,  a  blessing  or  a  curse,  a 
fountain  of  joy  or  a  burden  of  woe,  a  centre 
of  light  or  a  source  of  gloom.  You  are  the 
master  of  your  fate ;  you  are  lord  of  yourself. 
You  may  become  believer  or  unbeliever,  theist, 
atheist,  agnostic.  Christian,  Buddhist,  material- 
ist. You  may  adopt  any  theory  of  existence 
that  you  please  ;  you  may  conform  your  exist- 
ence to  whatever  standard  you  like.  You  are 
free  to  make  your  life  high  or  low,  fine  or 
coarse,  full  of  love  or  full  of  brutality.  You 
are  free  in  this  greatest  of  all  the  processes  of 
experimentation;    but   you  must  abide  by  the 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION  217 

inevitable  result.  "  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth, 
that  shall  he  also  reap."  God  is  not  mocked. 
Be  not  deceived.  We  must  not  think  to  sow  to 
the  flesh  and  to  reap  to  the  Spirit.  Sowing  and 
reaping  are  always  in  one  and  the  same  kind. 
The  courses  of  conduct  that  gratify  the  beast  in 
man  will  never  issue  in  the  power  of  the  Spirit. 
Choose  your  standard ;  act  under  it ;  then  face 
the  inevitable.  When  all  the  restrictions  upon 
freedom  that  go  with  heredity  general  and  spe- 
cial, and  environment  universal  and  particular, 
are  noted,  it  is  still  true  that  life  is  what  we 
choose  to  make  it.  The  loom  is  here,  ready  for 
our  use  ;  the  thread  is  here,  awaiting  our  indus- 
try; the  shuttle  is  here,  too,  in  the  inevitable 
impulsive  soul ;  but  the  pattern  in  the  interest 
of  which  the  loom  runs,  the  shuttle  flies,  and  the 
threads  are  woven,  each  man  must  supply.  The 
character  in  the  piece  is  from  the  weaver,  and 
not  from  the  machine.  The  controlling  purpose 
is  from  the  soul,  and  not  from  its  circumstances ; 
and  it  is  this  purpose  that  gives  character  to  life. 
In  the  presence  of  this  freedom,  at  once  pre- 
cious and  perilous,  I  shall  name  four  answers  to 
our  question. 

1.  We  take  first  the  best  possible  answer. 
What  is  your  life?  It  is  an  existence  of  moral 
worth,  without  flaw,  clear,  pure,  shining,  golden 
worth.    We  can  imagine  a  man  so  good  that  he 


218  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

is  able  to  make  that  reply.  Evil  thoughts  come 
not  near  him.  Base  feelings  find  no  room  in  his 
heart.  Selfish  designs  and  a  self-seeking  career 
are  foreign  to  him.  His  thoughts  are  true,  his  feel- 
ings are  reverent,  his  purposes  are  high,  his  con- 
duct is  Hke  the  Lord's  robe,  without  seam,  con- 
sistent, whole,  and  wholly  good.  If  one  might 
borrow  an  image  from  the  life  of  some  planet, 
his  life  is  not  fire-mist,  it  is  not  solidity  in  heat 
and  darkness.  It  is  all  light,  all  fire,  pure,  burn- 
ing splendor,  such  an  existence  as  Dante  beheld 
in  Paradise.  It  is  goodness,  goodness  every- 
where, and  nothing  but  goodness.  Such  a  char- 
acter is  at  least  conceivable. 

Is  such  a  character  only  a  dream  ?  We  know 
well  that  few  among  the  sons  of  men  answer  to 
this  description.  Looking  over  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, considering  only  the  greater  names  of  a 
great  race,  one  might  place  here  Moses,  Nehe- 
miah,  Isaiah,  Jeremiah,  among  historical  char- 
acters, and  perhaps  ideal  persons  like  Joseph 
and  Daniel.  Perhaps  one  might  place  here  the 
best  of  a  great  civilization,  and  again  perhaps 
not.  It  may  be  that  they  belong  elsewhere. 
Should  the  chief  among  the  first  disciples  stand 
here  ?  It  is  difficult  to  say.  Looking  over  the 
wide  fields  of  history,  one  might  consider  suitable 
for  this  category  Epictetus,  Marcus  Aurellus,  and 
Buddha.    We  are  sure  that  one  should  be  placed 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION  219 

here,  and  we  are  completely  sure  of  no  other,  — 
Jesus  Christ. 

Even  upon  the  most  generous  judgment,  how 
few  among  the  children  of  men  can  be  classed  as 
men  of  pure,  clear,  unalloyed  worth!  Let  us  be 
thankful  for  the  few.  They  are  the  great  moral 
reserve  of  our  humanity,  like  the  gold  which  is 
the  reserve  of  our  national  currency.  Think  of 
the  volume  of  business  done  in  this  land  every 
day,  every  year,  and  how  seldom  you  see  a  gold 
coin  passing  from  hand  to  hand.  Business  is 
largely  done  in  paper,  in  check  or  bill ;  only  now 
and  then  a  gold  eagle,  a  double  eagle,  appears. 
But  in  all  this  transaction  through  paper  we 
know  that  the  gold  is  in  reserve,  and  that  it 
holds  solid  and  sure  the  financial  system  of  the 
entire  country.  Few  are  the  wortliful  among  us, 
yet  are  we  thankful  for  the  few.  They  hold  us 
to  the  sense  of  the  strength  and  dignity  which 
belong  to  the  race,  and  to  which  we  may  come. 
We  are  thankful  for  Jesus  Christ,  who  through- 
out Christendom  lives  in  the  vision  of  all  men 
as  the  perfect  human  worth.  What  a  boon  it  is 
to  be  able  to  think  of  him  as  the  great  reserve, 
the  great  backer,  the  great  assurance,  the  golden 
basis  of  humanity's  life,  struggle,  and  hope  ! 
"  Which  hope  we  have  as  an  anchor  of  the  soul, 
both  sure  and  stedfast,  and  which  entereth  into 
that  within  the  veil."    When  the  ship  is  caught 


220  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

offshore  in  storm  and  tempest,  she  takes  the 
anchor  that  is  part  of  herself  and  drops  it  into 
the  wild  deep  beyond  her.  There  it  finds  the 
rock,  and  there  it  holds  her  till  the  storm  abates 
and  the  sea  is  calm.  So  we  find  Christ,  the  stay 
and  assurance  of  man.  We  are  caught  in  the 
gales  of  passion,  doubt,  meanness,  brutality. 
We  wonder  if  faith  in  the  intrinsic  nobility  of 
man  can  live.  We  fling  out  of  our  own  heart 
our  confidence  in  the  divine  humanity  of  Jesus, 
and  through  the  wild  sea  on  which  we  are  tossed 
that  confidence  sinks,  anchor-like,  till  it  finds 
him.  Such  is  the  worth  to  weak  and  sinful  men 
of  the  flawless  goodness  of  the  Master  of  the 
Christian  world. 

2.  We  come  now  to  the  answer  that  is  second 
best.  What  is  your  life?  An  issue  of  useful 
work.  This  answer  covers  more.  There  are 
many  men  whose  thoughts  are  not  all  true, 
whose  feelings  are  not  all  noble,  whose  purposes 
and  actions  are  not  all  high,  who  nevertheless 
are  the  great  and  good  servants  of  their  kind. 
You  may  deny  Cromwell  a  place  in  the  first 
class  ;  you  cannot  deny  him  a  place  in  the  sec- 
ond class.  Think  of  that  life,  and  its  high  utility 
to  the  political  life  of  mankind !  You  may  deny 
Lincoln  a  place  in  the  first  order;  you  caunot 
deny  him  a  place  in  the  second.  Again  it  is  true 
that  the  soul  of  the  man  went  forth  in  a  great 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION  221 

service.  Here  Luther  stands.  He  was  a  man 
of  many  imperfections,  yet  has  he  done  the  world 
an  immeasurable  service. 

Here  we  place  our  elect  citizens.  The  maker 
of  a  wholesome  human  home  belongs  here ;  for 
that  is  a  public,  a  racial  utility.  The  man  who 
carries  on  a  great  and  honorable  business  be- 
longs here,  for  he  is  an  immense  utility  to  man- 
kind. Those  who  sow  and  those  who  reap,  those 
who  raise  and  those  who  gather  the  crops  of 
the  earth,  those  who  direct  the  maniifactui-ing 
energy  of  the  coimtry,  those  who  run  its  carry- 
ing power  by  land  and  by  sea,  in  a  sense  belong 
here.  Their  lives  are  indispensable  to  an  ongoing 
world ;  and  if  you  and  I  think  it  is  good  to  live, 
good  to  have  a  living  world,  we  should  be  will- 
ing to  confess  that  they  who  keep  the  world 
alive  are  at  least  useful.  The  beloved  physician 
belongs  here,  the  just  jurist,  the  journalist  who 
aims  to  create  and  to  maintain  a  sound  public 
opinion,  the  educator  who  brings  to  bear  upon 
the  successive  generations  of  youth  a  strong  and 
a  benign  manhood. 

When  the  farmer  brings  home  from  his 
orchard  the  fruits  of  the  season,  and  looks  care- 
fully over  what  he  has  gathered,  he  sees  indeed 
only  a  few  perfect  apples  ;  but  he  sees  a  great 
many  that  are  useful.  And  when  you  survey 
mankind,  you  find  few  indeed  upon  whom  you 


222  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

can  put  without  qualification  the  mark  of  worth, 
but  you  find  many  whom  you  can  describe  by 
the  honorable  term  of  usefulness. 

3.  We  must  now  listen  to  the  third  best  answer. 
What  is  your  life?  It  aims  at  the  highest,  it 
means  well  most  of  the  time,  it  pursues,  haltingly 
indeed,  but  with  a  sad  sincerity,  a  lofty  ideal. 
This,  I  think,  covers  more  than  either  of  the  other 
two  answers.  Indeed,  I  am  inclined  to  put  in 
this  class  the  majority  of  those  whom  we  respect 
and  love. 

I  spoke  of  the  apostles  as  belonging  in  the  first 
order  of  men,  perhaps.  Surely  they  must  be  put, 
if  anywhere  below  the  first  order,  in  the  second. 
Yet  the  chief  among  them  placed  himseK  in  the 
third  order.  He  thus  describes  his  career,  "  not 
that  I  have  already  obtained,  or  am  already  made 
perfect :  .  .  .  but  one  thing  I  do,  forgetting  the 
things  which  are  behind,  and  stretching  forward 
to  the  things  which  are  before,  I  press  on  toward 
the  goal  imto  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God 
in  Christ  Jesus."  Paul's  greatness  lies  in  the 
intention,  movement,  direction  of  his  life,  and 
not  in  its  attainment. 

That  makes  one  breathe  more  freely.  If  this 
hero  of  the  faith  belongs  in  the  third  order,  the 
whole  order  is  hallowed  by  him.  What  an  order 
it  is !  It  is  composed  of  the  men  who  make  no 
pretenses  because  they  know  that  none  are  justi- 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION  223 

fiable  ;  of  those  who  are  seekers  after  truth,  who 
move  in  a  great  quest,  who  have  in  their  vision 
the  ends  that  strengthen  and  console  the  race.  To 
belong  here  is  high  honor,  to  move  in  the  tides 
of  humanity  represented  by  the  men  of  this  order, 
faint  yet  pursuing,  baffled  but  not  defeated,  set 
back  but,  like  the  stream  behind  the  dam,  gather- 
ing volmne  and  force  to  go  on  again.  How  great 
and  deep  and  full  of  God  this  is !  It  is  not  the 
best ;  it  is  not  the  second  best ;  but  it  is  the  third 
best,  and  it  is  admirable. 

The  weather  is  not  always  good  ;  far  from  it. 
The  sxm  never  fails  to  rise,  never  fails  to  run 
his  course,  never  fails  to  shine,  always  intends  to 
fill  the  earth  with  light  and  beauty,  but  clouds 
gather  round  him  and  defeat  him,  storms  beset 
him  and  turn  to  failure  his  best  intention,  his 
most  glorious  endeavor.  There  are  thousands  of 
men  who  mean  to  make  their  lives  beautiful,  who 
mean  to  make  home  beautiful,  who  mean  to  spread 
through  the  world  sunshine  and  good  cheer,  but 
they  are  involved  in  bad  weather.  The  light  of 
their  life  is  thrown  back  upon  them,  they  are  de- 
feated in  their  best  intention  and  endeavor.  The 
great  steamers,  I  believe,  always  intend  to  cross 
the  ocean  in  the  shortest  time  possible.  That  is 
the  ideal  of  good  business ;  but  these  great  ships 
do  not  always  succeed.  They  are  overtaken  by 
storm  and  tempest.   They  are  held  back  by  stress 


224  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

of  weather,  they  plow  forward,  beaten  by  terrible 
seas  and  sorely  pressed.  Days  late  they  come 
into  port.  But  even  in  the  wildest  storm  they 
head  homeward,  and  they  arrive  at  length. 

This  is  a  picture  of  the  great  majority  of  the 
good  people  whom  I  know.  They  mean  well 
most  of  the  time,  but  they  fail  in  doing  well. 
They  are  caught  in  the  storm,  they  are  over- 
burdened with  anxiety,  they  are  blown  back  by 
the  gales  of  passion  and  misfortune,  and  all  that 
you  can  say  of  them  is  that  they  are  headed 
homeward,  that  they  mean  well.  Dr.  Johnson 
says  that  hell  is  paved  with  good  intentions ; 
which  shows  that  Dr.  Johnson  could  fail  in  in- 
sight. Good  intentions  are  among  the  best  things 
in  life.  The  good  intention  is  all  the  difference 
there  is  between  a  mistake  and  a  crime ;  it  dif- 
ferentiates the  mistaken  person  from  the  crimi- 
nal as  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west.  There 
are  no  good  intentions  in  hell.  All  good  inten- 
tions are  the  breath  of  the  Infinite  in  man  ;  and 
they  find  their  home  at  last  in  the  house  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.  For  the 
best  that  we  can  sometimes  say  of  the  best  men 
is  that  they  intended  well. 

4.  We  come  now  to  the  final  answer.  What 
is  your  life  ?  It  is  an  indestructible  capacity  for 
worth,  for  usefulness,  for  the  pursuit  and  service 
of  the  highest  ideals.     It  is  an   indestructible 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION  225 

capacity  for  the  divine  life.  That  is  the  heart 
of  our  humanity.  Below  that  no  man  can  sink. 
He  may  be  worthless,  useless,  unmoved  by  the 
ideal,  but  he  can  never  be  without  the  capacity 
for  the  highest. 

Here  we  see  the  power  that  sets  man  apart 
from  the  orders  of  life  below  him.  Just  as  the  eye 
is  made  to  see,  and  in  normal  cases  does  see,  the 
ear  to  hear,  the  palate  to  taste,  the  hand  to  touch, 
as  the  design  of  our  Maker  lies  in  the  adjust- 
ment of  organ  to  function,  so  the  capacity  of  the 
soul  for  a  life  of  worth,  utility,  high  intention, 
shows  the  plan  and  presence  of  God  in  the 
soul.  This  enduring  capacity  for  the  highest  is 
what  the  Bible  calls  the  image  of  God  in  man. 
He  is  fitted,  and  he  alone  is  fitted,  to  share  the 
Universal  life.  Some  creatures  have  feet  only, 
others  have  feet  and  wings.  Man  has  the  men- 
tal powers  of  the  inferior  orders  of  life,  and  he 
has  that  which  they  do  not  have,  the  capacity  to 
rise  into  the  life  of  God.  The  Greek  Hermes 
had  winged  feet ;  the  human  soul  has  this  swift, 
soaring  distinction. 

Here  we  learn  the  true  ground  of  self-respect. 
The  sense  of  self-respect  is  indispensable  to  man- 
hood. Without  self-respect  no  man  is  strong,  no 
man  is  brave.  Without  it  honor  is  impossible. 
There  is  hardly  a  noble  quality  of  human  charac- 
ter that  is  not  rooted  in  seK-respect.    How  men 


226  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

struggle  to  maintain  this  precious  feeling!  To 
what  devices,  to  what  delusions,  they  resort  to 
keep  or  to  recover  self-respect !  They  teU  us 
that  they  are  high-born,  that  they  know  so  much, 
that  they  have  been  so  very  successful,  that  their 
friends  are  so  distinguished.  All  the  while  they 
are  aware  that  these  things  do  not  count.  Your 
character  is  thin  ice ;  it  will  not  support  your 
heavy  pretensions.  Retreat  to  the  firm-set  earth. 
You  can  respect  your  nature  when  you  cannot 
respect  your  character.  Stand  on  your  human 
nature  as  God  made  it,  stand  on  your  capacity 
for  goodness,  stand  on  your  capacity  to  utter  in 
your  life  the  moral  life  of  God,  and  you  shall 
look  the  whole  world  in  the  face. 

Here,  too,  we  learn  the  ground  of  hope  for  our 
kind.  If  only  men  of  worth  go  to  heaven,  it  will 
be  a  lonely  and  forlorn  place.  If  only  lives  that 
are  signally  useful  go  there,  it  will  still  be  a 
sparsely  populated  and  a  weary  land.  If  only 
they  go  to  heaven  who  pursue  consciously  a  high 
moral  ideal,  even  on  this  ground  the  majority 
of  our  fellow  men  wiU  be  excluded  from  that 
sphere  of  radiant  rest.  This  I  cannot  accept. 
As  this  old  planet  at  midnight  and  in  the  dark- 
est night  of  the  year,  when  the  city  is  asleep, 
when  whole  nations  are  asleep,  still  moves 
silently  and  resistlessly  sunward,  so  the  great 
world  of   toil,  borne   on  by  the   Holy   Ghost, 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION  227 

carries  toward  the  eternal  light  all  true  workmen 
everywhere,  even  if  they  never  look  up,  and 
think  of  God  hardly  once  a  week. 

Do  you  think  that  is  too  broad  ?  What  are  you 
going  to  do  with  these  multitudes  unconscious 
of  the  Christian  ideal?  Here  are  the  millions 
who  are  doing  the  hard  work  of  the  world.  They 
tumble  out  of  the  cradle  into  the  workshops  of 
the  world  ;  they  tumble  out  of  the  workshops 
of  the  world  into  the  grave ;  and  their  life  from 
beginning  to  end  is  in  the  service  of  their  kind. 
And  is  there  no  God  living  within  them  because 
of  their  work,  as  the  lightning  lives  in  the 
cloud  ?  Where  men  gain  the  worth  of  which 
they  are  seldom  conscious  is  not  in  church  or 
Sunday-school,  precious  as  these  servants  of  the 
Spirit  are,  but  in  the  stern  process  whereby  they 
help  their  fellow  men  to  live.  An  idle  world 
would  be  a  hopeless  world.  A  toiling  and  suffer- 
ing race  has  the  worth  of  God  in  it,  however 
dumb  about  the  divine  it  may  be.  A  serving 
and  suffering  race,  even  a  race  that  serves  and 
suffers  under  compulsion,  is  great  with  hope, 
because  it  is,  although  it  know  it  not,  the  suffer- 
ing servant  of  God. 

I  am  not  pleading  for  contentment  with  the 
lower  forms  of  man's  life.  I  am  showing  the 
ground  of  hope  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  Did 
you  ever  find  the  nest  of  a  skylark  ?   It  builds 


228  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

its  nest  in  the  field,  in  any  tuft  of  grass  that 
it  may  find.  You  look  into  that  nest,  and  you 
discover  there,  at  first,  three  or  four  tiny  eggs, 
with  the  potentiality  of  a  skylark  in  each  one. 
Survey  the  human  race,  and  what  is  your  first 
discovery?  The  great,  sweet  capacity  of  man- 
hood brooded  by  the  sable  wings  of  the  world's 
work,  with  the  Holy  Ghost  in  the  wings.  You 
look  into  that  nest  a  second  time,  and  you  see 
three  or  four  mouths  wide  open.  There  are  in 
the  nest  now  only  mouths.  You  consider  again 
the  masses  of  mankind,  and  you  note  hunger 
everywhere,  greed,  clamoring  appetite.  Human- 
ity has  become  one  vast,  ravenous  mouth.  You 
look  into  the  nest  a  third  time.  It  is  empty. 
The  young  birds  are  hopping  on  the  ground,  they 
are  on  the  fences,  they  are  exercising  their 
wings  in  short  flights.  They  are  a  utility  to 
themselves  and  to  the  parent  birds.  Consider 
men  again,  and  this  time  you  find  them  work- 
ing, thinking  of  others ;  the  father  is  living  for 
his  wife  and  children,  the  wife  and  mother  is 
livuig  for  her  home,  the  children  are  working, 
too,  and  they  are  full  of  sympathy  for  their 
parents  and  for  one  another.  Usefulness  is 
changing  into  something  fine  and  high  the  clam- 
orous selfishness  of  the  mere  animal.  You  look 
once  more  at  your  birds,  and  you  see  them  on 
the    wing.    They    are    rising    in    the    morning 


THE  GEE  AT  QUESTION  229 

against  the  purpling  east,  pouring  forth  their 
song  to  the  dawn,  beautiful  as  the  dawn  itseK, 
or,  as  in  SheUey's  living  words,  they  are  greet- 
ing  the  sunset :  — 

"  In  the  golden  lightning 

Of  the  sunken  sun, 
O'er  which  clouds  are  bright'ning, 
Thou  dost  float  and  run, 
Like  an  unbodied  joy  whose  race  is  just  begun." 

That  is  the  bird  at  its  best ;  that  is  man  at  his 
highest.  Here  is  man's  life,  —  capacity,  inten- 
tion, utility,  worth,  flight,  song,  joy,  and  God 
over  all,  under  all,  and  in  all  blessed  forever. 

What  is  your  life,  O  my  brother?  It  is 
capacity  for  the  highest.  Rest  not  there.  Make 
it  pursuit  of  the  flying  ideal ;  make  it  a  noble 
utility ;  make  it  worth,  song,  freedom,  joy ; 
make  it  the  conscious,  winged,  happy,  singing 
life  in  God. 


XIII 
THE  ROMANCE  AND  THE   REALITY 

Luke  ii,  8-12. 

In  this  account  of  the  birth  of  Jesus  we  have 
the  romance  and  the  reality,  the  poetry  and  the 
truth,  the  pageant  of  faith  and  the  awful  beauty 
of  the  Divine  Child.  The  angel  that  appeared 
to  the  shepherds  inspired  fear,  hope,  obedience, 
and  discovery.  In  the  presence  of  the  angel  the 
shepherds  were  overcome  with  awe ;  they  were 
lifted  with  a  vast  hope  ;  at  once  they  were  obe- 
dient to  the  heavenly  vision  ;  and  this  obedience 
led  them  to  the  great  discovery.  In  awe  and 
hope  and  obedience  they  came  with  haste,  and 
found  both  Mary  and  Joseph,  and  the  babe  lying 
in  the  manger.  We  may  share  the  same  feelings, 
we  may  enter  the  same  experiences,  inspired  not 
by  the  angel,  but  by  the  Divine  Child. 

1.  The  true  object  of  awe  is  not  the  angel  and 
his  heavenly  host,  but  this  Divine  Child.  Think 
what  he  has  done  to  lead  men  to  God !  Think 
how  he  has  made  the  world  know  that  God  cares 
for  it !  Suppose  that  Jesus  had  wielded  an  equal 
power  in  leading  men  away  from  God !  Two 
possibiUties  lie    in    the  soul    of    that  wondrous 


THE  ROMANCE  AND  THE  REALITY     231 

Child,  the  possibilities  of  racial  salvation  and  ra- 
cial perdition.  Look  into  the  manger,  and  behold 
there  the  awful  power  of  a  possible  Saviour  and 
a  possible  destroyer. 

The  solemn  hope  of  life  lies  in  its  permanent 
interests.  Men  were  made  to  live  with  one  an- 
other according  to  justice,  in  the  mood  of  kind- 
ness, and  in  devout  communion  with  the  Eternal 
life.  Within  the  compass  of  justice  and  kind- 
ness and  religious  trust  are  very  many  great 
human  interests.  We  have  interests  physical, 
intellectual,  political,  artistic.  Our  great  inter- 
ests are  largely  in  the  keeping  of  great  men. 
They  may  lead  us  wisely,  and  again  they  may 
lead  us  astray.  They  may  mould  our  intelligence 
in  the  forms  of  a  false  philosophy,  crush  our 
humanity  by  a  false  science,  corrupt  our  sense  of 
beauty  by  pressing  upon  us  unworthy  standards, 
enslave  us  by  their  political  control,  degrade 
us  by  their  atheism  and  despair.  Great  men  make 
the  world ;  great  men  mar  it.  Fall  under  the  in- 
fluence of  one  sort  of  greatness,  and  your  whole 
nature  rises  into  strength  ;  fall  under  the  power 
of  another  kind  of  greatness,  and  your  life  is 
ruined.  Here  we  see  our  debt  to  the  noble  great. 
A  few  great  thinkers  in  Greece,  in  France,  in 
Germany,  in  Great  Britain,  and  one  or  two  in 
America  save  the  intellectual  life  of  the  race.  A 
few  sane  scientists  become  the  pledge  of  perma- 


232  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

nent  sanity  in  tlie  interpretation  of  nature.  A  few 
poets,  a  few  painters  and  builders,  a  few  musi- 
cians, become  sovereign  over  the  artistic  life  of 
the  world.  A  few  great  rulers  lift  the  nations  into 
political  manhood  and  hope.  What  Moses,  Peri- 
cles, Caesar,  Charlemagne,  Cromwell,  and  Wash- 
ington have  done  for  the  political  well-being  of 
the  world  it  would  be  difficult  to  measure.  And 
here  is  the  tremendous  thought :  all  who  have 
served  wisely  might  have  served  unwisely,  all  who 
have  lifted  human  life  might  have  dragged  it  down. 
Suppose  that  Jesus  had  used  his  power  in 
leading  men  away  from  God !  Think  of  that 
mind  !  Imagine  it  to  have  framed  a  religion  of 
despair,  what  compass  and  grandeur  and  wild 
fascination  he  could  have  given  to  it !  To  what 
empire  over  the  thought  and  feeling  of  the  race 
he  could  have  lifted  it !  All  the  teachers  of 
pessimism,  Ecclesiastes,  Lucretius,  Omar,  Swift, 
Schopenhauer,  Thomson,  would  seem  but  vagrant 
clouds  against  the  noonday  sun,  compared  with 
the  eternal  night  which  his  mind  and  sympathy 
might  have  made  the  home  of  mankind.  Even 
Buddha  would  seem  a  small  calamity  compared 
with  this,  for  Jesus  possessed  such  creative  power 
in  the  world  of  thought,  and  such  genius  for  in- 
vesting his  creations  with  fascination,  that  had 
he  been  himself  misled,  he  would  have  misled 
mankind. 


THE  ROMANCE  AND   THE  REALITY     233 

We  begin  to  see  with  what  awe  we  should 
stand  at  the  manger  in  Bethlehem.  The  possibil- 
ity of  the  world's  salvation  or  perdition  is  here. 
The  great  order  of  thought  that  tells  us  that 
the  Eternal  God  is  the  Father  of  men,  that  his 
mercy  surrounds  every  soul,  that  He  has  in  each 
human  being  a  purpose  of  infinite  love,  that  the 
dark  side  of  existence  is  but  discipline  in  the  in- 
terest of  personal  righteousness,  inward  wealth, 
and  final  joy,  that  almighty  wisdom  and  good- 
ness rule  over  all,  may  rise  out  of  that  Child's 
mind  to  illumine,  to  guide,  and  to  console  the 
world  ;  or  some  scheme  of  inconceivable  power 
and  gloom  may  come  forth  from  that  same  mind 
to  cover  the  race  vdth  the  horror  of  great  dark- 
ness. At  this  manger  we  stand  in  awe.  Here  is 
the  most  fateful  thing  in  history,  the  undeclared 
mind  of  the  Child  Jesus. 

The  leaders  of  the  race  were  once  children. 
Standing  at  the  benign  issue  of  their  finished 
careers,  how  great  they  seem  as  they  lie  in  the 
cradle,  and  how  fateful !  Washington  and  Arnold 
were  once  children,  Lincoln  and  Davis,  John 
and  Judas.  Paul  was  once  a  child,  and  Paul's 
nameless  schoolmate  whose  life  became  a  plague. 
Augustine  was  a  child,  and  here  is  that  forgotten 
friend  of  his  whose  power  was  spent  in  degrading 
his  kind.  Luther  was  once  a  child,  and  that  other 
monk,  who  hated  the  light  and  served  darkness. 


234  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

Cromwell  was  once  a  child,  and  Charles  I.  The 
saints  were  once  children,  and  the  same  is  true 
of  all  the  criminals  and  vagabonds  in  history. 

In  this  mood  of  seriousness  we  look  upon  the 
children  of  to-day.  They  are  not  mere  play- 
things. They  are  not  simply  for  the  entertain- 
ment and  comfort  of  kindred.  They  are  charged 
with  terrible  power.  They  may  raise  the  nation 
into  new  greatness,  and  they  may  pull  down  and 
destroy  the  work  of  our  hands.  They  may  honor 
and  advance  the  Kingdom  of  God,  and  they  may 
bring  on  the  reign  of  darkness.  In  our  children 
we  discern  these  two  tremendous  possibilities : 
they  may  become  saviours  of  men,  or  destroyers. 

2.  The  inspiration  to  hope  is  not  in  the  angel 
and  his  heavenly  host,  but  again  it  is  in  this 
Divine  Child.  In  that  young  life  carefully  edu- 
cated, piously  trained,  completely  possessed  by 
the  spirit  of  God,  is  the  beginning  of  a  new  day 
for  mankind.  There  is  the  beginning  of  the 
mightiest  human  life  in  history.  There  is  the 
true  ground  for  hope.  The  angelic  host  may  be 
but  a  vision  ;  Jesus  is  real.  The  vision  may  fade 
or  even  become  incredible ;  the  reality  of  Jesus 
is  an  abiding  and  mighty  reality.  Look  at  him 
in  the  manger.  There  is  Divine  humanity,  with 
worlds  of  strength,  tenderness,  beauty,  insight, 
love,  authority,  awaiting  revelation.  Look  at 
him,  and  see  in  that  Divine  soul  the  sure  pro- 


THE  ROMANCE  AND   THE  REALITY     235 

phecy  of  the  new  heaven  and  the  new  earth 
wherein  dwelleth  righteousness.  Old  Simeon 
might  well  sing  as  he  took  this  Child  in  his  arms : 

"  Now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart,  O  Lord, 

According  to  thy  word,  in  peace ; 

For  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation, 

Which  thou  hast  prepared  before  the  face  of  all  peoples; 

A  light  for  revelation  to  the  Gentiles, 

And  the  glory  of  thy  people  Israel." 

Old  Simeon  said  nothing  about  the  vision  of 
angels.  The  salvation  for  which  he  waited  was 
a  hiiman  salvation.  He  was  sure  of  that  salva- 
tion when  he  held  in  his  aged  arms  that  glorious 
ChUd. 

This  Simeon  story  is  the  rendering  of  the  de- 
vout heart  of  one  generation  ;  it  is  the  rendering 
of  the  devout  heart  of  all  the  generations.  All  the 
wise  and  devout  in  Judea,  when  Jesus  was  born, 
felt  as  Simeon  did ;  all  the  wise  and  devout  in 
all  the  generations  have  felt  in  this  way  as  they 
stood  in  the  Temple  and  saw  this  Child  in  the 
arms  of  the  aged  servant  of  God.  It  is  a  beauti- 
ful sight  that  we  have  here.  A  man  old,  infirm, 
awaiting  the  end,  who  has  spent  his  strength  in 
the  service  of  his  people,  who  sees  the  immense 
and  infinite  need  of  his  nation,  who  longs  to 
die  not  without  some  vision  of  the  coming  salva- 
tion, stands  one  fair  morning  at  the  Temple-door. 
Up  from  Bethlehem  sleeping  there  on  the  hill- 


236  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

side  a  few  miles  south  of  Jerusalem  come  Joseph 
and  Mary,  bringing  with  them  the  Infant  Jesus. 
There  is  something  in  that  Infant  that  speaks  to 
the  old  man.  He  sees  a  goodly,  a  Divine  Child. 
The  power  to  work  the  salvation  for  which  the 
old  saint  has  been  waiting  is  in  the  soul  of 
that  Child.  The  coming  from  God  of  this  life 
is  the  sure  pledge  of  the  great  deliverance. 
Simeon  is  done,  but  here  is  the  beginning  with- 
out end. 

We  must  not  think  that  Simeon  knew  or  even 
dreamed  what  theology  would  say  about  Jesus. 
He  simply  saw  before  him  an  infant,  an  infant 
with  the  light  of  heaven  in  his  face,  with  the 
presence  of  God  in  his  soul.  He  saw  a  Divine 
soul,  and  knew  that  God  had  come  anew  into 
the  world.  Simeon  felt  about  this  Child  as  good 
people  always  feel  in  the  presence  of  a  rarely 
beautiful  infant  life.  The  saints  always  rejoice 
when  a  man  is  born  into  the  world.  The  greatest 
thing  in  the  world  is  the  birth  of  a  child,  coming 
from  God  in  the  strength  of  unsearchable  possi- 
bilities of  service.  The  saints  have  learned  the 
ways  of  God  in  bringing  into  human  society 
more  and  more  of  his  light  and  love  and  author- 
ity. They  know  that  the  cradles  of  the  race  are 
the  east,  where  the  new  and  divine  day  is  break- 
ing. They  look  thither  and  behold  the  increas- 
ing glow,  the   spreading  fb-e,  the  great   silent 


THE  ROMANCE  AND    THE  REALITY     237 

oncoming  day  of  the  Lord.  They  know  that 
souls  bring  to  souls  the  sense  and  assurance  of 
the  soul  of  God,  that  new  souls  bring  the  new 
sense  and  the  profounder  assui*ance,  that  the 
great  souls  just  born  are  glorious  in  prophecy 
for  the  race  to  which  they  have  come. 

You  can  imagine  Israel  in  bondage,  groaning 
under  burdens  too  heavy  to  be  borne,  appeal- 
ing blindly  to  Heaven,  expecting  God  to  rend 
the  heavens  and  come  down.  The  wild  multitude 
would  think  nothing  of  the  little  boy  that  was 
born  to  Amram,  would  smile  at  the  ark  of  bul- 
rushes floating  there  in  the  river,  would  discover 
there  nothing  but  j^athos  and  the  tragic  love  of  a 
mother's  heart  in  the  desperate  effort  to  save  the 
child's  life  from  the  horrible  decree  of  Pharaoh. 
Yet  there  may  have  been  some  pure  prophetic 
soul,  some  one  old  in  years  and  in  suffering, 
and  old  in  the  knowledge  of  God's  way  of  help- 
ing man,  who  beheld  in  the  infant  in  the  ark 
of  bulrushes  floating  in  the  Nile  the  hope  of  a 
coming  deliverer.  In  all  the  ages  of  distress,  can 
we  not  believe  that  the  wise  and  the  pure  waited 
for  the  coming  of  God  in  the  coming  of  children  ? 
You  can  think  of  them,  turning  away  in  sorrow 
from  the  poor  philosopher,  the  miserable  priest, 
the  still  more  miserable  demagogue,  turning  away 
sad  at  heart  from  all  the  old  and  helpless  leaders 
of  the  time,  and  going  forth  on  a  pilgrimage  to 


238  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

the  cradles  of  their  race.  Look  at  them  as  they 
visit  home  after  home  ;  look  at  them  as  the  lines 
of  care  and  distress  vanish  from  their  faces,  as 
the  light  of  dead  hopes  begins  to  shine  again  in 
their  old  eyes,  as  they  go  away  at  last  with  the 
sure  vision  of  God's  fresh  advent  in  the  advent 
of  new  human  souls. 

The  tabernacle  of  God  is  with  men.  Ye  are 
the  Temple  of  God.  That  is  Christianity.  Men 
come  from  God,  and  they  bring  God  with  them. 
Jesus  is  our  Lord  because  he  once  for  all  set 
God's  method  of  revealing  himself  in  ideal,  in 
perfect  light,  the  ideal  and  perfect  light  of  his 
Divine  humanity.  Henceforth  we  look  for  God 
in  human  lives,  in  the  intellect  of  the  wise  man, 
in  the  heart  of  the  good  man,  in  the  conscience  of 
the  pure,  in  the  will  of  the  strong.  Here  in  the 
succession  of  good  lives  dating  from  the  Divine 
life  of  Jesus  is  the  river  of  God,  and  it  is  full  of 
water.  What  the  Nile  is  to  Egypt  the  religious 
soul  of  man  is  to  man.  The  great  river  created 
the  country,  it  keeps  it  alive,  it  makes  it  fruitful 
and  beautiful.  On  either  side  is  desert,  wild, 
wide,  terrible.  Whithersoever  the  river  goes 
everything  lives.  The  Nile  is  a  kind  of  deity  to 
that  land,  a  thing  so  solemn,  constant,  supreme, 
that  it  might  be  worshiped.  Such  is  the  career 
of  man  in  this  world.  On  either  hand  are  the 
immensities  of  space  and  time,  to  right  and  left 


i 


THE  ROMANCE  AND    THE  REALITY      239 

are  the  material  orders  of  the  cosmos,  a  bound- 
less desert  so  far  as  any  hint  of  love  is  concerned, 
an  infinite  waste  wherein  is  found  no  sign  of  con- 
science,  no  single  flower  of  regard  or  pity  for 
man.  Through  this  wild  wilderness,  in  which 
live  fearful  things,  there  runs  forever  the  great 
stream  of  our  human  life.  Here  is  the  river  that 
makes  our  world  and  all  worlds  live.  Here  is 
the  force  that  creates,  that  sustains,  that  forever 
guards  the  higher  faith  of  man.  Here  is  the 
power  that  is  sovereign  in  this  whole  sphere  in 
which  we  live,  that  brings  God  from  beyond  the 
stars,  from  behind  the  cosmos,  from  the  un- 
searchable depth  of  eternity,  and  reveals  Him 
as  the  life  of  our  life,  the  love  of  our  love,  the 
soul  of  our  soul.  Greater  than  all  the  wonders 
of  Egypt  is  the  solemn,  silent,  sovereign  river; 
greater  than  all  the  wonders  of  time  and  space 
is  the  succession  of  wise  and  good  men.  God  is 
there,  the  living  God,  the  God  and  Father  of 
Jesus  Christ,  our  fathers'  God. 

The  picturesque  forms  of  faith  may  fade. 
Many  things  in  the  early  faith  of  the  Christian  cen- 
turies may  lose  their  power  as  the  ages  come  and 
go.  A  whole  world  dear  to  us,  dear  to  other  gen- 
erations, may  pass  utterly  away ;  but  one  thing 
is  sure.  God  in  Christ  is  here  forever.  God  in 
the  lives  of  Christian  men  and  women  shall  never 
pass.    God  in  the  successive  generations  of  chil- 


240  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

dren  is  the  abiding  God.  Here  in  the  Incarnation 
of  God  in  Jesus,  and  in  his  disciples,  is  the  per- 
petual, unassailable  gospel,  the  Christianity  that 
forever  lives,  forever  vindicates  its  reality,  that 
can  never  die.  The  heavenly  host  may  be  but 
a  dream ;  Jesus  we  know  is  real,  and  God  is 
with  him. 

3.  Here  is  our  inspiration  to  obedience.  Look 
at  the  power  of  Jesus  over  his  mother.  Her 
best  education  was  in  loving  and  in  training  him. 
Tlaink  of  the  new  interest  in  life  which  he  gave 
to  all,  and  the  new  sense  of  power.  Over  the 
shepherds  and  the  wise  men,  over  all  the  good 
people  in  the  little  town  where  he  was  born,  over 
the  two  Temple  saints,  and  later  over  the  doc- 
tors, he  wielded  the  same  charm.  He  imparted 
to  his  mother,  he  imparted  to  all,  fresh  interest 
in  living  and  a  profounder  sense  of  being  and 
power.  The  education  of  Jesus  was  largely  the 
work  of  his  mother  ;  the  mother's  education  was 
in  the  vision  she  obtained  of  the  soul  of  her 
son,  in  her  ever-deepening  love  and  in  her  ever- 
devoted  service. 

So  it  is  to-day.  What  is  the  greatest  of  all  eco- 
nomic motives  ?  The  hope  of  wealth  ?  No,  for  of 
that  there  is  no  hope  for  thousands.  The  desire 
for  bread  ?  No,  for  many  come  to  think  so  little 
of  life  that  bread  as  the  means  of  living  loses  its 
incentive.   Happiness  ?  No,  for  great  as  the  quiet 


THE  ROMANCE  AND   THE  REALITY     241 

content  is  that  comes  from  honest  work  honestly 
done,  we  cannot  forget  the  drudgery  that  much 
of  the  work  of  the  world  is,  or  the  suffering 
that  is  inseparable  from  it.  Companionship  ?  No  ; 
for  much  as  man  depends  upon  man,  and  consid- 
erable as  is  the  comfort  of  the  companionship  in 
work  of  like-minded  men,  yet  we  must  not  over- 
look the  inhumanity  of  workman  to  workman. 
None  of  these  motives,  nor  all  of  them  together, 
could  keep  this  old  and  sorrowful  world  of  sow- 
ing and  reaping,  buying  and  selling,  producing 
and  transporting,  alive  for  a  year.  If  you  would 
know  the  power  behind  the  plows  and  reapers, 
the  looms  and  stores  of  the  world ;  if  you  would 
know  the  sufficient  inspiration  of  miner  and 
sailor,  the  man  who  lives  in  the  heart  of  the 
earth  and  the  man  who  spends  his  strength  in 
the  heart  of  storms  and  tempests,  you  must  look 
into  the  homes,  into  the  cradles  of  the  race.  Men 
work  that  they  may  get  bread  and  shelter  and 
education  and  comfort  for  the  children.  The 
power  of  the  child  over  the  father,  over  the 
mother,  —  there  is  the  great,  persistent  inspira- 
tion of  the  world  of  work.  Men  and  women  will 
dare  anything,  will  do  anything,  will  endure 
anything,  that  the  children  whom  they  love  may 
live.  It  is  love,  love  of  the  amazing  child,  that  is 
the  mainspring  of  the  world's  best  activity.  In 
that  love  is  coiled  the  power  that  keeps  the  old 


242  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

world  running,  that  will  keep  it  running  better 
and  better,  and  running  forever. 

If  this  is  true,  we  owe  our  character  largely  to 
our  children.  Three  fourths  of  good  character  are 
born  of  honest  work,  and  honest  work  is  sustained 
by  our  love  for  our  children  ;  therefore  to  our  chil- 
dren we  are  indebted  for  the  best  part  of  our  life. 

We  may  work  for  our  own  children ;  we  may 
work  for  the  children  of  others.  So  far  we  are  free 
to  choose.  Beyond  this  there  is  no  choice,  if  we 
would  attain  to  our  highest  estate.  Our  highest 
nature  will  never  awake  from  slumber,  will  never 
rise  into  power  and  joy,  till  the  voice  of  the  child 
rings  in  our  ear.  Then  our  work  will  have  among 
its  motives  human  love,  and  work  into  which 
human  love  enters  becomes  a  school,  a  church,  a 
sanctuary  of  the  Most  High. 

We  hear  about  the  new  education  for  the  child. 
It  is  good  to  hear  about  it.  But  let  us  under- 
stand that  it  is  not  for  the  child  alone.  It  is  also 
for  the  parent,  for  the  brother  and  sister  and 
friend  ;  it  is  for  the  entire  generation  of  adult 
Kfe.  The  capacity  to  love  and  serve  children 
comes  near  being  man's  highest  capacity.  At  aU 
events,  it  is  the  capacity  to  gain  character  from 
the  family  life  of  the  world,  the  capacity  to  win 
for  one's  self  the  supreme  education,  —  the  vision 
of  worth,  the  passion  of  love,  the  title  of  servant. 

It  was  no  fanciful  picture  that   Isaiah  drew 


THE  ROMANCE  AND   THE  REALITY     243 

when  he  said,  "  The  wolf  shall  dwell  with  the 
lamb,  and  the  leopard  shall  lie  down  with  the 
kid ;  and  the  calf  and  the  young  lion  and  the 
fatling  together  ;  and  a  little  child  shall  lead 
them."  The  brutal  world  is  still  in  the  control 
of  the  cradles  of  the  world.  The  wUd  forces  in 
man's  soul  answer  to  the  gentle  voices  of  the 
children.  The  fierce  passions  of  men,  passions 
for  pleasure,  idleness,  show,  vanity,  sensuality, 
and  numberless  shameless  things  are  subdued 
into  working  energies,  converted  into  capacities 
for  a  fellowship  of  service  and  reasonable  living, 
by  the  divine  charm  of  childhood.  In  the  vision 
and  love  and  service  of  childhood  the  wild  beasts 
within  us  are  tamed  ;  we  become  men.  We  have 
given  to  the  children  our  life;  we  have  received 
it  back  with  God  in  it. 

4.  Finally,  the  Divine  Child  is  our  great  in- 
centive to  discovery.  The  nature  of  Jesus  is  the 
inexplorable  and  rewarding  mystery.  Jesus  is 
continually  saying  that  he  is  the  path  to  God. 
He  is  the  way,  no  less  than  the  truth  and  the 
life.  He  is  this  in  a  unique  manner,  and  at  the 
same  time  he  is  this  in  a  representative  manner. 
One  of  the  greatest  achievements  of  Jesus  is  the 
sense  which  he  created  in  men  of  the  unfathom- 
able meaning  of  human  nature.  His  vision  of 
men  as  sons  of  God  was  a  vision  of  beings  with 
the  divinest  endowment,   and  capable  of   put- 


244  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

ting  forth  the  very  greatest  powers.  Jesus  saw- 
in  men  indestructible  affinities  to  the  Eternal, 
indissoluble  bonds  of  brotherhood,  plans  of  God 
lying  deep  in  the  soul  for  an  existence,  personal 
and  social,  of  the  greatest  range  and  worth,  and 
endless  capacities  for  all  noble  growth,  all  ex- 
alted achievement,  all  serious  fellowship,  all  high 
delight.  Jesus  was  himself  the  supreme  wonder 
of  the  world ;  he  was  this  as  the  Divine  Man.  And 
the  greatest  thing  on  the  earth  for  Jesus  was  not 
nature,  but  humanity,  not  things,  but  souls,  not 
systems  of  opinion  or  religion,  but  man.  To  man 
Jesus  devoted  his  whole  strength.  For  Jesus  man 
was  the  sovereign  fact  in  ci-eation,  the  key  to  the 
character  of  God.  And  one  thing  he  has  done 
of  immeasurable  moment.  He  has  stimulated 
among  all  peoples  the  sense  of  humanity,  inspired 
man  to  the  study  of  man,  set  the  human  soul 
in  the  centre  of  all  high  interests,  and  built  the 
intellectual  world  round  this  centre.  Jesus  sur- 
veyed our  world,  considered  the  fruitfulness  of 
its  various  parts  in  relation  to  the  Infinite,  looked 
into  many  of  the  barren  excavations,  the  vain 
searchings  of  men,  held  within  the  compass  of 
his  vision  the  whole  field  of  possibility,  put  his 
hand  upon  the  human  soul,  personal  and  social, 
and  said,  "Mine  here.  Here  is  the  inexhaust- 
ible vein.  The  wealth  of  the  world,  the  riches  of 
the  universe,  are  to  be  approached  and  gained 


THE  ROMANCE  AND   THE  REALITY     245 

from  this  point.    God  comes  to  men  in  me,  God 
comes  to  men  in  man." 

Our  generation  is  earnest  over  this  teaching  of 
Jesus.  We  hold  the  child  in  higher  value.  We 
believe  that  wonders  await  us  in  the  study  of  the 
soul  of  the  child.  We  believe  that  there  are 
depths  and  heights  of  wisdom  in  the  unconscious 
spirit  of  a  normal  child  that  bring  God  anew 
into  the  world ;  we  look  to  this  psychic  wonder 
and  behold  a  mystery  of  personality  only  barely 
conscious  of  itself,  yet  moving  forces  and  show- 
ing implications  of  itself  over  immeasurable  fields, 
developing  surprises,  revealing  capacities,  that 
amaze  the  student,  and  that  call  upon  him  for 
profounder  search  and  devotion.  Here  in  the 
children  are  our  future  prophets,  teachers,  schol- 
ars, statesmen,  citizens,  and  masters  of  trade, 
lovers,  husbands,  wives,  makers  and  moulders  of 
the  nation.  As  they  are,  it  wiU  be.  As  they  may 
be,  it  may  become.  The  possibilities  of  the  child 
are  the  possibihties  of  the  nation,  the  possibilities 
of  the  world.  Every  spring  the  farmer  goes  forth 
upon  a  new  venture  ;  every  new  seedtime  is  the 
promise  of  a  yet  better  harvest.  In  every  new 
generation  of  children  there  is  a  chance  for  a  new 
and  better  nation.  In  every  new  generation  of 
children  there  may  be  the  assurance  of  a  nobler 
country.  Here  is  the  seed-time  of  citizenship ; 
here  is  the  assurance  of  a  mightier  harvest.    Men 


246  THROUGK  MAN   TO  GOD 

of  economic  habits  are  grieved  as  they  see  in 
Niagara  so  much  power  running  to  waste.  Their 
grief  is  a  sordid  grief.  The  esthetic  wonder  more 
than  compensates  for  the  economic  loss.  Let 
grief  be  turned  in  wise  directions.  Let  us  grieve 
that  the  fresh  accession  of  Divine  power  sent  to 
society  in  each  new  generation  of  children  is 
allowed  so  largely  to  run  to  waste,  that  only  a 
fraction  of  the  innate  nobility  of  children  is  ever 
saved  to  the  world,  that  the  vast  volume  of  its 
love,  honor,  fellow-feeling,  moral  insight,  and 
might  has  never  yet  been  put  to  the  service  of 
man.  That  is  the  wild  cataract  whose  thunder 
may  well  awaken  grief  and  despair ;  that  is  the 
rolling  and  tremendous  flood  whose  perpetual 
waste  may  well  be  the  supreme  sorrow  of  mankind. 
We  come  back  to  this  conclusion.  The  people 
who  revere  childhood,  who  enter  into  the  vision 
of  its  hidden  wealth  of  capacity  and  possibility, 
who  secure  that  wealth  by  wise  training,  who 
thus  improve  their  own  stock  from  generation 
to  generation,  providing  with  the  lapse  of 
the  centuries  nobler  lovers,  better  husbands,  and 
deeper-hearted  mothers,  will  surely  aid  in  the 
achievement  of  two  things.  They  wiU  provide 
the  better  race  to  command  the  future,  they  will 
build  the  nation  upon  the  better-understood  and 
better-served  childhood :  they  aid  in  securing 
an  ascending  national  life. 


THE  ROMANCE  AND   THE  REALITY     247 

This  is  one  of  the  two  things,  and  the  other  is 
the  greater  faith.  The  best  man  brings  us  near- 
est to  God.  The  sovereign  man  carries  the  world 
into  the  very  presence  of  God.  This  is  the  work 
of  Jesus.  He  was  able  to  take  the  world  with 
him  into  the  consciousness  of  God.  And  when 
he  left  the  world,  he  left  his  disciples  in  it  to 
continue  his  work.  He  works  for  the  coming  of 
the  better  child,  the  ideal  child,  the  race  lifted 
into  truth  and  goodness.  He  waits  for  a  social 
whole  so  wise,  so  clean,  so  devout,  so  sure  of 
God  itself,  that  it  will  like  a  mighty  tide  take 
up  souls  everywhere  and  carry  them  to  God. 

We  do  not  look  to  the  angels  for  new  light. 
We  look  to  the  cradles  of  the  land.  We  watch 
by  the  young  life  of  the  race  for  the  consolation 
of  the  race.  In  the  freshness  of  its  endowment, 
in  the  conservation  of  its  grace  through  the 
wiser  training,  in  the  steady  unfolding  of  its 
divine  humanity,  in  the  rhythm  and  song  of  its 
devout  and  exalted  life,  we  hear  the  notes  of  a 
new  Gloria  in  Excelsis. 


XIV 
WISE  MEN  AND  THEIR  IDEALS 

"For  we  saw  his  star  in  the  east,  and  are  come  to  worship  him." 

Matt /lew  ii,  2. 

There  are  many  questions  concerning  this  star 
that  we  cannot  answer.  Was  it  a  veritable 
outward  illumination,  or  only  an  inner  guiding 
light?  Did  it  belong  to  those  great  bodies  that 
travel  and  shine  in  space,  or  to  those  ideal  splen- 
dors that  give  distinction  to  all  wise  and  serious 
human  life  ?  Is  this  story  about  the  star  the  his- 
tory of  some  miraculous  heavenly  appearance,  or 
is  it  poetry,  a  beautiful  parable  of  something 
great  in  certain  human  souls?  These  are  ques- 
tions about  which  we  may  have  opinions,  but 
which  we  cannot  answer.  We  were  not  there 
to  share  the  vision,  and  therefore  we  cannot 
tell  what  it  was  that  the  wise  men  saw. 

Some  things,  however,  are  clear.  The  star  was 
the  star  of  wise  men.  It  was  seen  in  the  East, 
that  is,  it  appeared  in  the  firmament  under  which 
these  men  lived,  it  moved  in  their  environment, 
it  looked  down  upon  them  in  their  places  of  toil 
and  suffering.  It  was  a  guiding  star ;  it  con- 
nected the  East  with  a  better  West,  it  led  them 
on  from  one  form  of  wisdom  to  a  higher,  it  brought 


WISE  MEN  AND   THEIR  IDEALS         249 

them  at  length  to  the  birthplace  of  the  Highest. 
And  in  all  these  respects  this  star  is  of  permanent 
moment  for  mankind ;  it  is  of  clear  and  shining 
significance  for  us  to-day. 

Wise  men  cannot  live  without  beholding  sfreat, 
moving,  guiding  lights.  The  anthem  oftenest 
upon  the  lips  of  the  wise  is,  "  To  hun  that  made 
great  lights  ;  for  his  mercy  endure th  forever." 
The  wise  man  is  always  a  star-beholder,  a  star-fol- 
lower. He  live*  by  the  splendor  of  ideals.  These 
fill  his  inner  sky  with  their  bright  order  and  their 
solemn  beauty.  They  appear  to  each  wise  man  in 
the  region  where  he  dwells.  They  look  down  upon 
him  in  his  toil,  and  love,  and  suffering,  and  prayer. 
They  transfigure  the  night  of  his  animalism  and 
raise  within  his  spirit  new  dreams  of  the  dignity 
of  his  nature.  They  expand  his  narrow  world ; 
they  give  him  the  sense  of  the  Infinite  and  Eter- 
nal. They  connect  his  partial  and  fleeting  exist- 
ence with  something  great  and  enduring ;  they 
call  him  onward  to  the  fulfillment  of  his  deepest 
longings  ;  they  bring  him  step  by  step  to  the  su- 
preme manifestation  of  God.  When  we  are  wise, 
we  see  and  follow  shining  ideals  ;  when  we  see  and 
follow  shining  ideals,  we  come  at  last,  after  long 
journeys,  it  may  be,  and  much  weariness,  to  the 
vision  of  Christ.  For  Christ  is  the  great  answer 
to  the  ideal  longings  of  man  ;  he  is,  in  the  pro- 
foundest  sense,  the  desire  of  all  nations. 


250  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

1,  There  is  the  ideal  thought  of  the  world. 
How  wise  men  have  striven  for  the  deepest  and 
the  most  satisfying  insight  into  this  mysterious 
existence,  into  this  mysterious  universe  !  Let  the 
search  be  properly  conditioned,  let  it  be  wise,  let 
it  be  for  a  thought  that  best  accounts  for  what 
is  of  most  concern  in  man's  world.  Such  a  man 
was  Augustine,  who  went  the  round  of  all  the 
teachers  of  the  day,  who  longed  for  a  wise  and 
true  thought  about  this  strange  life  of  ours,  and 
who,  when  he  came  to  the  New  Testament,  found 
himself  at  home.  Take  all  the  philosophers  of 
the  spirit  in  our  Christian  era  who  have  known 
anything  about  Christianity.  They  started  far 
enough  away,  many  of  them,  from  Christ's  in- 
terpretation of  existence ;  they  toiled,  suffered, 
grew ;  they  came,  the  permanent  names  among 
them,  to  see  in  the  great  thoughts  of  Jesus  the 
profoundest  insight  into  life.  It  is  impressive  in 
the  highest  degree  to  find  Fichte  teaching  the 
way  toward  the  blessed  life  in  the  terms  of  Chris- 
tian thought,  and  to  watch  John  Stuart  Mill  in 
his  old  age  standing  in  admiration  before  the  sub- 
lime genius  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  thought  that 
presents  the  Eternal  as  our  Father  in  Heaven, 
that  makes  of  our  human  race  one  family,  that 
looks  upon  the  universe  as  our  Father's  house, 
that  regards  the  earthly  sojourn  of  man  as  life  in 
one  room  of  that  house,  and  man's  career  in  the 


WISE  MEN  AND   THEIR  IDEALS        251 

unseen  as  life  in  another  room  of  the  same  dwell- 
ing, is  for  the  spiritual  intellect  the  ideal  of  all 
wise  thought. 

We  do  not  know  that  it  is  true.  It  may  seem 
too  good  to  be  true.  We  are  unable  to  prove 
that  it  is  true.  But  hither  we  come  in  our  quest 
for  the  best,  here  we  rest  in  our  wanderings,  here 
by  the  sublime  teaching  of  Jesus  we  wait.  It  is  so 
wise  and  so  worthy.  It  meets  the  demands  of  a 
reasonable  mind,  and  it  holds  for  the  intelligence 
a  reasonable  universe.  We  can  see  our  fathers 
and  the  great  company  whom  they  represent 
standing  here.  They  were  led  hither  by  their 
parents  and  teachers  and  the  custom  of  their 
times.  They  were  led  by  something  greater. 
They  were  led  by  the  desire  for  an  adequately 
wise  thought,  and  they  were  led  through  the 
stern  discipline  of  life.  Famous  men  leave  to 
posterity  many  portraits.  The  generations  exam- 
ine these  one  by  one,  and  finally  gather  about 
the  best.  This  they  hold  is  the  most  speaking 
likeness  of  the  famous  spirit  now  in  the  unseen. 
So  men  examine  and  select  among  the  likenesses 
of  Luther,  CromweU,  Milton,  and  Lincoln.  They 
examine,  select,  and  wait  upon  the  best.  So  we 
deal  with  man's  thoughts  about  the  universe. 
They  are  portraits  made  by  an  immemorial  suc- 
cession of  artists  differing  greatly  in  insight 
and  power.    Wise  men  examine  these  portraits 


252  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

because  of  their  profound  desire  to  know  the 
character  of  the  world  in  which  they  live.  They 
examine,  select,  and  finally  gather  in  fixed  admi- 
ration and  faith  about  the  best.  The  thought  of 
Jesus  is  the  great  portrayal  of  the  character  of 
the  universe.  This,  we  believe,  is  the  true  like- 
ness of  the  Eternal.  Hither  we  have  been  led  by 
our  desire  for  the  wisest  human  thought  of  exist- 
ence. Here  by  this  sublime  image  of  existence 
we  will  wait  till  the  day  break  and  the  shadows 
flee  away. 

2.  There  is  the  ideal  beauty  in  the  world.  It 
sometimes  seems  to  us  strange  that  the  incom- 
parable painting  genius  of  early  modern  Europe 
should  have  been  so  engrossed  with  sacred  sub- 
jects. We  explain  it  by  saying  that  the  world  was 
then  under  the  domination  of  Catholic  Chris- 
tianity, and  that  artists  sought  their  subjects 
in  what  lay  close  to  the  popular  heart.  That  is 
one  explanation,  and  there  is  perhaps  some  truth 
in  it. 

There  is,  however,  a  deeper  explanation.  The 
lover  of  beauty,  if  wise,  must  go  on  to  the  high- 
est. Take  a  soul  like  Raphael  or  Michelangelo. 
Consider  the  passion  for  beauty  in  that  spirit. 
Where  can  it  rest  but  in  the  vision  of  the  beauty 
of  the  Lord  our  God?  There  is  no  beauty  in 
Greece  that  can  satisfy  the  vision  that  appears 
in  the  Sistine  Madonna.    There    is  no  beauty 


WISE  MEN  AND    THEIR  IDEALS        253 

anywhere  save  in  the  life  of  Christ  that  can 
meet  the  soul  of  Michelangelo.  When  Da  Vinci 
selects  for  his  greatest  picture  the  Last  Supper, 
he  is  wise.    He  can  do  nothing  else. 

Beauty  has  its  home  in  character.  The  most 
beautiful  thing  in  Greek  literature  is  Antigone. 
A  lofty,  loyal,  dauntless  human  soul  conducts 
to  the  true  sphere  of  beauty.  You  cannot  think 
of  Antigone,  beautiful  and  loving  beauty,  as 
anything  else  than  a  pilgrim  to  the  cradle  of 
Christ,  a  pilgrun  finally  to  the  cross  of  Christ. 
In  tragedy  her  character  shines  out  in  beauty  ; 
in  tragedy  Christ's  heavenly  grace  appears.  He 
is,  therefore,  no  lover  of  beauty  who  never  sees 
it  as  it  burns  in  the  highest  human  character. 
Those  who  worship  only  sensuous  beauty  dwell 
in  the  land  of  shadows  ;  they  are  like  men  who 
see  the  stars  reflected  in  a  pond,  and  who  dive 
for  them  there.  They  dive  after  reflections,  they 
pursue  shadows,  they  worship  images.  Wise  lov- 
ers of  beauty  look  up.  There  in  the  inaccessible 
heights  the  real  eternal  stars  shine.  There  is  the 
poetry  of  heaven.  And  in  human  character,  in 
brave,  benign,  self-sacrificing  service,  in  souls 
devoted  to  the  highest,  is  the  true  beauty  of  the 
world.  Whoever  sees  that  will  travel  onward  till 
he  comes  to  the  character  that  is  the  grace  and 
the  truth  of  human  history. 

If  you  have  ever  seen  a  beautiful  soul  in  man, 


254  THROUGH  MAN    TO   GOD 

in  woman,  or  in  child ;  if  you  have  ever  stood 
before  the  apocalypse  of  a  true  mother's  heart, 
or  a  noble  father's  spirit,  if  you  have  ever  in  this 
world  actually  beheld  a  beautiful  human  char- 
acter, you  know  that  there  is  nothing  in  the 
heavens  above,  or  in  the  earth  beneath,  or  in  the 
waters  under  the  earth  to  match  that  loveHness. 
Thenceforth,  grateful  for  every  vision  of  beauty, 
you  seek  for  the  beauty  of  a  great  soul,  and 
seeking  for  the  beauty  of  a  great  soul  you  find 
yourseK  at  last  by  the  side  of  the  supreme  soul 
of  Christ. 

3.  Others  are  moved  by  pity.  In  the  religion 
of  Buddha  pity  is  fundamental.  The  image  of 
Buddha  is  always  an  expression  of  painless  com- 
passion. And  this  is  the  secret  of  his  power  over 
the  uncounted  millions  of  suffering  men  and 
women  in  the  hopeless  East.  He  cannot  remove, 
he  cannot  mitigate  their  sufferings,  he  cannot 
change  the  law  of  misery  under  which  all  exist- 
ence moves,  but  he  can  behold  it  in  loving,  sub- 
dued, gracious  compassion.  That  enfolding  com- 
passion of  the  Buddha,  although  it  can  change 
nothing,  is  nevertheless  an  inexpressible  comfort 
to  the  hopeless  sufferer  from  the  misery  of  being. 

Perhaps  this  is  the  point  of  contact  between 
what  is  highest  in  the  East  and  in  the  West. 
Perhaps  the  pity  of  Jesus  has  not  been  ade- 
quately presented  by  our  preachers    in  foreign 


WISE  MEN  AND   THEIR  IDEALS        255 

lands.  The  sufferings  of  these  peoples  are  very 
gi'eat,  and  if  it  could  be  shown  that  the  compas- 
sion of  Jesus  is  deeper  far  than  that  of  Buddha, 
diviner  far,  efficacious  also  over  mind  and  body, 
the  channel  of  a  redeeming  grace,  the  pathway 
and  agent  of  an  endless  hope,  perhaps  these 
vast  inert  populations  would  more  willingly  open 
their  hearts  to  the  power  of  the  Christian  gospel. 
First  there  comes  to  the  cold  earth,  locked  under 
the  stern  hand  of  winter,  the  warm  spring  rain ; 
the  heavens  pour  this  living  tide  into  the  ground 
until  it  is  filled  with  it,  softened,  made  aware  of 
a  new  visitation.  Then  comes  the  sunshine,  and 
then  new  life  and  hope  everywhere.  So  it  is  with 
these  suffering  continents.  Present  first  of  all  the 
compassionate  Christ.  Flood  the  being  of  these 
peoples  with  the  heavenly  sympathy  of  the  Lord. 
Let  it  rain  down  upon  them  until  they  know 
that  a  divine  power  has  entered  into  their  ex- 
istence. Then  throw  upon  them  the  glowing 
illumination  of  Christian  truth.  Perhaps  in  this 
way  the  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  might 
rejoice,  and  the  desert  blossom  as  the  rose. 
Perhaps  in  this  way  compassion  might  be  the 
channel  of  a  hope  that  would  stir  to  effort  these 
stagnant  races  and  create  in  them  a  desire  to  live 
forever,  that  forever  they  might  climb  into  the 
blessedness  and  the  strength  of  good  men. 
Pity  in  the  form  of  sympathy  is  indeed  the 


256  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

only  path  to  a  multitude  ot  hearts  among  our- 
selves. Thousands  are  so  concerned  and  ab- 
sorbed with  their  sufferings  that  they  see  no- 
thing and  hear  nothing  that  does  not  first  of  all 
ring  into  their  thoughts  the  notes  of  sympathy. 
They  live  as  it  were  within  the  sound  of  the 
church  bell,  but  the  bell  is  unheard,  or  heard 
only  as  a  disturber  of  the  peace,  till  it  becomes  a 
chime  of  bells  and  plays  some  soft  melody  laden 
with  the  memories  of  other  years,  or  some  refrain 
of  sorrow  that  pours  upon  the  air  the  burden 
in  their  own  sad  souls.  The  voice  that  arrests 
attention,  that  gains  a  hearing,  that  finally 
opens  the  sealed  receptivities  of  the  soul,  is,  in 
a  multitude  of  cases,  the  voice  of  compassion. 
So  Jesus  moved  among  men.  His  nature  en- 
folded the  existence  of  children  and  mothers, 
of  publicans  and  sinners,  of  rich  and  poor,  of 
suffering  men  and  women  everywhere,  and  they 
felt  that  in  his  presence  they  were  understood 
and  their  burden  of  sorrow  justly  measured  and 
weighed.  What  Jesus  was  in  this  aspect  of  his 
character  we  are  too  gross  to  dream.  We  try  to 
figure  that  mighty,  self-oblivious  soul,  with  its 
divine  outward  look,  everywhere  scanning  the 
faces  of  the  men  and  women  whom  he  met,  read- 
ing the  great  secrets  of  their  hearts,  and  pouring 
in  unbidden  the  tides  of  a  benign  sympathy,  en- 
folding all  in  the  heavenly  comfort  of  a  sublime 


WISE  MEN  AND   THEIR  IDEALS        257 

compassion  ;  but  in  our  best  endeavor  we  fail  of 
any  adequate  image  of  what  must  have  been  the 
heavenly  grace  of  his  approach  to  men. 

If  we  look  into  the  Gospels,  we  see  at  once 
how  very  few  came  to  Jesus  because  of  a  hunger 
for  goodness,  and  how  many  because  of  the  cry 
of  the  heart  for  sympatliy.  The  Syrophoenician 
mother  and  the  centurion  came,  as  others  did, 
for  their  children.  Something  in  their  hmnan 
existence  was  inexpressibly  precious ;  something 
had  gone  wrong  at  the  heart  of  this  joyous 
possession.  Something  there  was  in  Jesus  that 
drew  such  people  toward  him.  He  might  or  he 
might  not  be  able  to  help  them ;  of  one  thing 
they  were  sure,  they  would  be  encircled  in  his 
sympathy.  Perhaps,  in  a  way,  this  was  the  at- 
tractive power  of  Jesus  over  his  disciples.  We 
are  not  sure  that  any  one  of  the  twelve  Apostles 
was  drawn  to  Jesus  by  the  great  and  baffled 
passion  for  righteousness.  Paul  is  the  only  Apos- 
tle, so  far  as  we  know,  whose  first  interest  in 
Jesus  was  an  exalted  moral  interest.  The  other 
men  who  became  the  disciples  and  apostles  of 
Jesus  came  to  him  because  of  his  illuminating 
and  comforting  sympathy.  They  found  in  him 
other  things,  and  they  developed  for  him  other 
interests.  But  this  was  the  aboriginal  interest. 
Rabbi,  where  dwellest  thou?  Come  and  see. 
The  lesser  and  feebler  natures  came  that  they 


258  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

might  stand  in  the  comfort  and  hope  of  the 
greater.  Nicodemus  was  of  this  order.  He  was 
torn  with  perplexity  and  unrest.  He  could  not 
understand  himself.  He  was  not  moved  by  any 
decided  desire  for  personal  goodness.  He  came 
that  he  might  be  understood,  he  came  for  the 
illumination  and  peace  of  a  great  compassion. 
And  so  it  was  all  through  the  ministry  of  Jesus. 
He  had  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  noble  sympa- 
thy. Men  and  women  sought  it  in  their  dis- 
tress, as  one  might  seek  perpetual  suimuer. 

Christ's  mood  of  compassion  toward  man  is  stiU 
mighty.  In  this  world  there  are  so  many  hard 
attitudes  toward  life.  There  is  brutal  indifference. 
How  many  among  rich  and  poor  alike,  how  many 
among  resourceful  natures  of  all  classes,  are  bru- 
tally indifferent  toward  the  fate  of  their  fellow 
men  !  Like  the  priest  and  the  Levite,  they  pass 
by  on  the  other  side.  Suffering  is  a  thing  to  be 
shunned  and  forgotten.  There  is  the  cynical 
attitude.  Here  there  is  interest,  but  it  is  that 
of  the  mocker  under  the  cross.  Ha,  thou  that 
destroyest  the  temple  and  in  three  days  buildest 
it  again !  There  is  the  mood  of  blind  criticism. 
It  is  not  brutal,  it  is  not  cynical,  it  is  simply 
blind.  He  saved  others,  himself  he  could  not 
save.  There  is  the  attitude  of  moral  justice. 
Its  maxim  is:  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that 
shall  he  also  reap.    It  is  just,  but  oh,  how  severe ! 


WISE  MEN  AND   THEIR  IDEALS        259 

Men  seldom  start  on  equal  terms  with  the  moral 
order.  There  is  nearly  always  a  handicap  some- 
where. And  the  justice  that  notes  all  this  rises 
into  compassion.  This  higher  justice  was  the 
habitual  mood  of  Jesus.  He  saw  the  tragedy  in 
which  all  human  life  is  caught.  The  ideal  asks 
for  perfection ;  the  soul  is  made  for  perfection, 
hut  the  sold  is  in  alliance  with  a  body  of  death. 
This  confusion  of  higher  and  lower  in  man,  of 
the  will  to  follow  the  best  and  the  impulse  of  the 
animal,  the  strength  and  the  weakness  that  make 
up  this  great  and  pathetic  humanity  of  ours, 
Jesus  completely  understood.  He  saw  it  all,  and 
the  sea  of  troubles  that  rose  through  it,  and  he 
was  filled  with  compassion.  The  help  that  man 
needs  is  the  help  of  the  compassionate  teacher 
who  can  wait  and  work  for  the  far  distant  end. 

This  is  the  sublime  compassion  of  Jesus,  and 
all  who  love  it  follow  that  love  till  it  brings 
them  to  him.  What  is  there  in  any  other  way 
of  regarding  the  world  at  all  comparable  to  this  ? 
Is  not  this  the  way  to  think  of  our  fellow  men? 
Do  we  not  occasionally  pray  that  into  this  high 
and  pure  spirit  we  may  be  lifted  ?  And  when 
we  are,  for  a  moment,  thus  minded,  is  there  any 
being  in  all  history  who  appeals  to  us,  and  who 
draws  us  toward  him,  as  Christ  does  ?  Is  he  not 
like  music  ?  I  recall  the  effect  of  a  German  band 
upon  the  life  in  one  of  our  great  thoroughfares. 


260  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

It  struck  up  the  simple  refrain,  "  There 's  a  land 
that  is  fairer  than  day,  and  by  faith  we  can 
see  it  afar."  Every  person,  every  wagon,  every 
car,  every  moving  object  stood  still,  all  windows 
were  opened,  and  silent,  eager  faces  crowded 
them  ;  the  business  of  the  street  for  a  few  great 
moments  was  absolutely  suspended.  There  was 
something  in  that  music  that  arrested,  that 
found,  that  comforted  every  man.  One  might 
have  spoken  to  those  souls,  or  sung  to  them,  or 
gotten  up  a  show  for  them,  but  the  multitude 
would  have  paid  little  heed  to  it.  It  was  that 
strain  of  music  that  hushed  all  hearts  into  peace. 
Something  like  this  is  the  effect  upon  the  world 
of  the  compassion  of  Jesus.  It  is  so  unearthly, 
and  yet  it  is  what  the  world  needs.  It  is  so 
unlike  the  strife  and  cruelty  among  men,  and 
yet  it  finds  in  man  the  greater  man  that  cries 
out  for  it.  It  opens  the  depths  in  the  human 
soul,  and  calls  out  hidden  capacities  and  long- 
ings. It  wields  upon  men  the  power  of  great 
music.  Here  is  something  which,  for  a  brief 
space  at  least,  men  cannot  resist.  Here  is  a 
spirit  that  compels  the  world  to  stand  stiU,  and 
that  wins  to  itself  every  seeker  after  a  higher 
justice  in  the  world. 

4.  Some  are  led  to  the  Master  by  the  vision 
of  that  which  I  think  is  highest  in  his  character, 
—  his  magnanimity.    When  the  world  is  wiser, 


WISE  MEN  AND   THEIR   IDEALS        261 

when  it  learns  to  value  things  in  wisdom,  it  will 
be  profoundly  affected  by  the  magnanimity  of 
Jesus.  At  present  this  aspect  of  his  character 
is  too  high ;  it  is  like  the  far-soaring  summit  of 
some  great  mountain.  It  is  seldom  seen.  It  is 
lost  in  cloud  and  storm.  Our  human  atmosphere 
breeds  these  clouds  and  tempests,  and  therefore 
what  is  loftiest  is  seldomest  beheld.  A  better  day 
will  surely  come,  a  serener  air,  when  the  highest 
in  Jesus  can  stand  over  men  in  all  the  power  of 
its  siiblime  beauty.  Offer  to  feed  the  poor,  and 
your  tables  will  be  crowded ;  offer  to  entertain 
the  rich,  and  your  feast  of  wit  wiU  gather  a  mul- 
titude ;  offer  to  teach  men  the  way  of  wisdom, 
and  the  number  will  diminish  ;  offer  to  men  a 
great  opportunity  for  goodness,  and  fewer  still 
will  come  ;  offer  the  highest,  the  magnanimity  of 
Christ,  and  men  wiU  say,  with  Peter,  "  I  under- 
stand not  what  thou  sayest."  This  is  the  pathos 
of  the  world.  The  highest  is  not  so  dear  to  man 
as  the  lowest ;  the  highest  is  not  so  sweet  to  good 
men  as  the  lower.  Many  will  read  a  worthless 
romance  and  never  open  Shakespeare  or  Milton. 
Many  will  read  the  Sunday  newspaper  and  never 
look  at  the  great  words  of  psalmist,  prophet,  and 
apostle.  Strait  is  the  gate  and  narrow  is  the 
way  that  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be  that 
find  it.  But  to  those  few,  how  exhilarating,  how 
divine,  is  that  narrow  way ! 


262  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

The  magnanimity  of  Christ  is  higher  than  his 
pity.  The  power  to  deal  justly  with  men  is 
great,  the  power  to  pity  men  who  deal  unjustly 
is  greater  ;  the  power  to  regard  them  with  no 
bitterness  when  one  is  the  victim  of  their  injus- 
tice is  the  greatest.  Jesus  always  dealt  justly 
by  men.  His  fairness  is  one  great  power  in  his 
character.  He  looked  upon  men  and  women  in 
their  wickedness  with  profomid  compassion.  He 
was  able,  when  he  received  no  justice,  when  he 
received  instead  injustice  and  outrage,  humilia- 
tion and  contempt  of  the  last  and  worst  degree, 
to  rise  above  it  all,  to  regard  the  world  without 
bitterness,  to  carry  it  in  its  blindness  to  God  in 
his  prayer.  In  the  tragedy  of  life  we  all  stand. 
Some  men  deserve  much  good,  and  they  get  more 
than  they  deserve.  This  they  know,  and  this  is 
their  cross.  Some  men  deserve  much  good,  and 
get  less  than  they  deserve,  and  this  is  their  bit- 
terness. Some  men  when  they  are  good  are 
treated  as  if  they  were  bad.  They  belong  among 
the  honorable  servants  of  mankind ;  they  are 
placed  among  the  malign  forces.  One  there  was 
who  deserved  the  best  and  who  received  the 
worst,  who  was  the  supreme  servant  of  the  race, 
and  who  was  crucified  between  two  thieves.  Here 
in  this  tragic  world  we  all  live.  Somewhere 
our  bitterness  lies.  Are  we  less  deserving  than 
the  world  thinks?   Are  we  more  guilty  than  the 


WISE  MEN  AND   THEIR  IDEALS        263 

world  knows  ?  Are  we  worthier  than  it  believes  ? 
Are  we  wrongly  placed  ?  How  under  these  con- 
ditions do  we  behave  ?  Here  is  the  sovereign 
test  of  man,  here  is  the  sovereign  test  of  man's 
world.  Oh,  the  tragedy  in  which  we  all  are  in- 
volved! Oh,  the  pain  to  good  men  of  overesti- 
mation,  of  underestimation,  of  mistaken  estima- 
tion, of  infamous  estimation !  In  this  tragedy 
Jesus  lived  his  life.  He  is  bone  of  our  bone  and 
flesh  of  our  flesh.  He  is  with  us  in  the  great 
waters,  and  they  smite  him  as  they  do  us.  He 
is  with  us  in  the  fiery  furnace,  and  it  consumes 
him  as  it  consumes  us.  But  in  this  tragedy  we 
behold  in  him  what  we  long  to  see  in  our- 
selves, and  cannot  see  because  it  is  not  there. 
We  behold  in  him  the  sense  of  justice  outraged 
by  the  treatment  which  he  received,  and  yet  with- 
out bitterness,  without  losing  his  high  regard  for 
men,  without  uttering  one  unseemly  word,  with- 
out giving  expression  to  one  thought  or  feeling 
lower  than  the  highest.  We  see  in  Jesus  one  who, 
when  he  has  done  the  best  that  man  can  do  for 
his  brother,  and  receives  as  wages  the  worst,  is 
able  to  look  down  upon  those  that  put  him  to 
death  and  say,  "  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do  !  "  This  is  the  highest 
in  Jesus ;  when  we  love  magnanimity,  as  one 
day  men  will,  that  love  will  guide  to  the  Lord. 
5.  More  general  than  the  guiding  ideals  men- 


264  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

tioned  are  the  ideals  of  life's  fulfillment  and 
life's  worth.  Men  who  are  conscious  of  a  soul, 
of  a  great  and  happy  range  of  powers,  who  are 
aware  that  in  the  humanity  that  they  bear  they 
have  the  secret  of  a  wonderful  existence,  who 
come  to  look  upon  themselves  as  they  regard 
some  rare  musical  instrument,  usually  ponder 
the  paths  of  their  feet.  They  seek  knowledge, 
insight,  skiU  ;  they  seek  teachers,  exemplars,  wise 
and  inspiring  leaders.  The  desire  for  life's  ful- 
fillment gives  them  a  wide  and  vigilant  outlook. 
They  look  for  help  as  the  eagle  does  for  prey. 
They  fly  high,  circle  wide,  and  with  keen  vision 
see  from  afar.  When  any  light  traveling  the 
way  of  Christ  meets  their  sight,  they  follow  it. 
They  seek  the  rest  of  the  heart  in  the  highest, 
and  every  path  and  every  guide  bring  them  on 
their  way  to  the  Lord.  The  Ethiopian  whom 
Philip  met  in  the  desert  south  of  Jerusalem  is 
an  example  of  the  whole  class.  He  was  a  seeker 
after  life's  fulfillment.  He  found  in  Philip  a 
shining  guide,  and  he  followed  this  guide  to  the 
heart  of  Christ. 

The  ideal  of  life's  worth  is  of  still  more  gen- 
eral power.  Where  there  is  love  there  is  the 
sense  of  the  worth  of  existence.  It  is  impossible 
for  human  beings  to  be  members  of  happy  homes, 
without  the  consciousness  of  life's  worth.  Fathers 
and  mothers  would  like  to  believe  that  the  chil- 


WISE  MEN  AND   THEIR  IDEALS        265 

dren  who  are  so  fair  and  dear  to  them  are  fair 
and  dear  to  the  Eternal.  Every  fortunate  son 
and  daughter  would  like  to  believe  that  God 
estimates  even  more  highly  than  they  do  the 
noble  father,  the  beloved  mother,  who  has  passed 
out  of  this  world.  Find  anywhere  a  lover,  and 
you  find  one  who  would  gladly  believe  that  his 
beloved  is  the  beloved  of  God.  And  when  the 
heart  is  great,  when  it  is  burdened  with  more 
and  more  of  the  precious  things  of  love,  it 
instinctively  looks  about  it  for  support.  It  can- 
not bear  the  burden  of  its  own  love,  unless  God 
is  with  it.  Who  can  bring  it  to  God  ?  Who  can 
give  it  the  best  insight  into  the  character  of  the 
Infinite  ?  Whoever  can  in  any  measure  meet  that 
demand  becomes  to  that  soul  a  guiding  star,  and 
that  guiding  star  leads  naturally  to  the  Lord, 
who  gives  the  vision  of  the  God  without  whom 
not  a  sparrow  faUeth  to  the  ground,  who  num- 
bers even  the  hairs  of  our  head,  to  whom  men 
are  joined  in  the  deathless  bond  of  Fatherhood 
and  childhood.  To  that  protection  for  the  lov- 
ing heart  men  of  love  come  at  last. 

Here  we  see  plainly  why  some  men  move 
toward  Christ  with  the  profoundest  interest,  and 
why  others  turn  away  from  him.  Men  turn  away 
from  him  because  they  desire  none  of  the  things 
that  he  has  to  give.  They  are  not  wise  men. 
They  do  not  desire  wisdom.    Some  one  asked  Dr. 


266  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOB 

Mayhew  why  it  was  that  the  Song  of  Solomon 
was  in  the  Bible  and  that  the  Wisdom  of  Solomon 
was  left  out.  His  answer  was  that  as  a  general 
thing  people  are  fonder  of  songs  than  they  are 
of  wisdom.  Men  without  wisdom  behold  no 
shining  ideals,  and  without  ideals  men  do  not 
search  for  the  Highest.  The  hardest  thing  that 
the  best  physician  has  to  do  is  to  create  an  appe- 
tite where  there  is  none.  Feats  in  surgery,  in 
wise  prescription  for  the  elimination  of  the 
poison  of  disease,  are  as  nothing  compared  with 
the  task  of  creating  appetite  in  a  desireless  and 
impotent  organism.  Yet  without  some  degree 
of  eager  receptivity,  all  the  food  in  the  world  is 
worthless.  The  hardest  task  of  the  man  of  God 
to-day  is  to  create  the  taste  for  divine  things,  to 
awaken  an  interest  in  them,  and  a  longing  for 
them.  Teaching  those  who  desire  to  know,  com- 
forting those  whose  hearts  are  open  to  comfort, 
supplying  with  thought  and  inspiration  these 
noble  men  and  women  under  the  stress  of  exist- 
ence, is  easy,  is  indeed  nothing,  to  the  task  of 
getting  men  without  interest  in  the  things  of  the 
spirit  to  care  for  them.  It  is  like  raising  the 
dead.  We  do  not  expect  the  dead  to  wait  upon 
the  Lord  in  these  earthly  courts ;  and  we  can 
hardly  expect  those  whose  inward  fire  has  sunk 
to  a  mere  smoking  cinder  to  flame  with  passion 
for  things  divine.    The  widest  and  most  tragic 


WISE  MEN  AND    THEIR  IDEALS         267 

contrast  among  men  is  not  between  the  rich  and 
the  poor,  the  joyous  and  the  sorrowful,  those  in 
outward  comfort  and  those  in  outward  misery, 
but  between  the  soul  that  sings,  "  My  heart  and 
my  flesh  cry  out  after  the  living  God,"  and  the 
soul  that  sighs,  "  My  heart  and  my  flesh  are  as 
dust  and  ashes  within  me  when  I  think  of  God." 
Son  of  man,  can  these  dry  bones  live  ?  O  Lord, 
thou  knowest !  What  can  make  them  live  but 
the  breath  of  the  Eternal  ?  What  but  the  breath 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  can  rekindle  the  dying  flame 
of  high  desire  ? 

That  serious  and  aspiring  men  should  move 
into  an  ever  deeper  appreciation  of  Jesus,  is  of  all 
things  the  most  natural.  The  force  of  gravity 
pulls  irresistibly  the  smaller  body  to  the  greater, 
and  where  souls  are  kindred,  the  weaker  moves 
toward  the  stronger  by  a  similar  inevitableness. 
If  a  man  is  deeply  concerned  about  the  quality  of 
his  existence,  if  moral  excellence  fascinates  him, 
if  the  greater  ideals  of  human  goodness  greet  him 
from  afar,  if  his  soul  discovers  in  merely  animal 
pleasure  a  circle  of  death,  if  the  hunger  and  thirst 
of  his  being  rise  into  a  hunger  and  thirst  after 
righteousness,  and  if  he  is  eager  for  illuminations 
and  inspirations  in  his  quest  for  moral  peace,  he 
is  almost  sure  to  end  his  quest  in  the  school  of 
Christ.  So  it  is  with  the  seeker  after  wisdom  in 
all  her  forms.    Such  a  soul  is  like  the  iron  that 


268  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

cannot  resist  the  magnet.  In  the  sphere  of  Christ 
the  devout  lover  of  wisdom  is  irresistibly  drawn 
to  Christ.  His  aim  is  one  with  that  of  Christ,  his 
moral  being  is  one  with  that  of  Christ,  and  he  is 
but  going  to  his  own  better  self  when  he  is  going 
to  Christ.  He  is  seeking  the  highest  manhood, 
and  how  can  he  help  moving  toward  Christ  ?  Can 
one  seek  light,  and  not  desire  the  full  day  ?  Can 
one  love  the  highest  human  goodness  and  not  love 
Christ  ?  You  see  in  your  child  the  sense  of  beauty. 
You  watch  your  child  under  the  charm  of  the 
beautiful  things  in  your  home,  and  in  the  nature 
that  lies  round  your  home.  You  take  your  child 
to  some  of  the  great  sights  of  the  world.  You 
travel  through  the  natural  wonders  of  our  own 
land,  you  stand  before  some  masterpiece  in  paint- 
ing, you  hear  great  music  in  the  land  of  the  great 
composers.  You  know  in  advance  what  the  effect 
will  be  upon  your  child.  The  love  of  beauty  is 
there,  and  when  beauty  comes  in  surpassing  form, 
the  love  rises  to  greet  it.  So  it  is  in  the  sphere 
of  the  spirit.  When  we  see  men  who  are  lovers 
of  goodness,  we  are  sure  that  when  they  behold 
him  they  will  become  lovers  of  Christ.  The  mood 
is  there  which  impels  towards  the  highest,  and 
when  the  Highest  appears  they  cleave  to  him  as 
the  goal  of  desire.  "  Your  father  Abraham  re- 
joiced to  see  my  day;  and  he  saw  it,  and  was 
glad."    He  saw  the  heavenly  ideal,  and  he  looked 


WISE  MEN  AND   THEIR  IDEALS        269 

forward  to  the  day  when  in  some  great  human 
soul  it  would  find  complete  embodiment.  What 
is  the  Messianic  hope  of  Israel  but  the  star  that 
wise  men  beheld  in  the  east?  As  all  the  stars 
travel  toward  the  zenith,  so  aU  goodness  leads 
up  toward  the  supreme  Christ. 

I  must  remind  you  again  of  the  profound  par- 
able in  the  words  of  the  text.  Wise  men  saw  the 
star ;  only  the  wise  see  these  shining  and  mov- 
ing ideals  that  are  the  assurance  of  all  progress 
and  all  peace.  Wise  men  saw  the  star  in  the  east, 
in  the  place  where  they  lived.  In  the  region 
where  they  live  and  labor  and  suffer  it  is  still 
true  that  wise  men  see  everlasting  lights.  They 
do  not  need  to  travel  far  to  see  them;  in  the 
heart  of  life's  toil  and  weariness  they  need  only 
to  look  up  and  behold  them  overhead  in  serene, 
prophetic  brightness.  A  mother  in  sorrow  for  her 
child,  the  sorrow  that  is  the  great  obverse  of  her 
love,  a  father  longing  for  a  deeper  and  tenderer 
heart,  young  men  and  women  in  the  world's  work, 
close  to  the  world's  uncleanness,  praying  for  a 
strong  and  an  uncontaminated  humanity,  the 
anxious  by  the  bed  of  pain,  the  bereaved  by  the 
open  grave,  and  the  lonely  heart  under  the  awful 
burden  of  its  solitude,  have  but  to  pause,  look 
up,  and  behold  the  heavenly  ideal  that  guides 
the  feet  of  the  faithful  to  the  light  that  never 
was   on  sea  or  land,  and  into  the  peace   that 


270  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

passeth  all  understanding.  In  the  east,  where  you 
are,  as  you  are,  and  in  the  heart  of  your  toil  and 
pain,  look  up,  and  behold  that  serene  and  beckon- 
ing star.  It  is  the  great  tie  between  us  and  the 
Highest.  Jesus  is  not  foreign  to  us.  He  is  each 
soul  at  its  best,  each  soul  as  God  meant  it  should 
be.  He  is  our  ideal  realized,  and  when  we  follow 
that  ideal,  we  come  at  length  to  him.  Our  ideals 
are  the  moving  lights  that  connect  our  poor, 
isolated  souls  with  the  life  in  Christ,  with  the 
life  in  God.  We  live  in  the  east,  but  our  ideals 
travel  until  they  stand  over  the  cradle,  over  the 
manhood  of  Christ ;  and  when  we  follow  them, 
we  move  away  from  our  isolation  into  the  great- 
ness of  the  life  in  God.  We  have  come  again 
to  this  great  Christmas  season.  Oh,  that  we 
might  be  wise  !  Oh,  that  we  might  see  in  the 
east  some  heavenly  and  moving  illumination ! 
Oh,  that  we  might  follow  it  across  all  wild  and 
sorrowful  places,  through  all  lonely  valleys,  over 
all  weary  plains  and  looming  mountains,  till  life 
is  blessed  in  the  vision  of  God  in  Christ  I 


XV 

THE  FINAL  THEODICY 

"  And  he  hath  said  unto  me,  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee :  for  my 
power  is  made  perfect  in  weakness." 

2  Cot.  lii,  9. 

When  we  first  begin  to  consider  it,  the  order 
of  this  world  is  not  at  all  to  our  minds.  If  we 
ever  come  to  think  well  of  it,  if  we  ever  come  to 
like  it,  without  exception  it  is  through  a  great 
reconciliation.  We  pass  from  disapproval  to 
quiet  acceptance  through  a  profounder  insight,  a 
nobler  wisdom,  a  loftier  experience,  a  vaster  and 
surer  hope.  At  the  first,  the  order  of  this  world 
is  for  aU  honest  and  serious  persons  a  supreme 
disappointment. 

Without  audacity,  without  hypocrisy,  in  aU 
sad  sincerity,  we  declare  that  if  we  had  made 
this  world,  we  should  have  made  it  differently. 
If  we  had  made  this  world,  we  should  have  put 
no  winter  in  our  sky,  no  storms  on  our  seas,  no 
volcanoes  in  our  islands  and  continents,  no  reign 
of  death  over  the  empire  of  life.  If  we  had  made 
the  human  race,  we  should  have  put  into  it  no 
physical  defect,  no  mental  eccentricity,  no  bias  of 
will  toward  evil.    If  we  had  made  this  world,  we 


272  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

should  not  have  wrapped  it  in  impenetrable 
and  appalling  mystery. 

Our  disappointment  here  is  deep  and  sad.  It 
is  more.  It  takes  the  form  of  revolt.  We  have 
seen  a  child  —  beautiful  and  gifted  —  on  some 
radiant  morning  looking  out  upon  the  world  in 
perfect  admiration  and  joy.  We  have  seen  the 
change  pass  over  the  covmtenance  of  that  child  as 
it  comes  to  realize,  for  the  first  time,  the  cruelty, 
the  suffering,  and  the  death  that  reign  in  that 
fair  world ;  still  more,  as  it  comes  to  know  man's 
inhumanity  to  man,  the  child's  joy  is  turned  to 
grief,  its  admiration  is  changed  to  horror.  For 
the  moment,  sympathy  with  nature  and  man- 
kind is  changed  into  fierce  hatred  and  revolt. 

At  the  beginning  we  are  equally  disappointed 
with  our  Master  Jesus  Christ.  His  programme 
is  not  our  programme  for  ourselves.  He  does 
not  at  first  fulfill  our  expectations.  He  does  not 
keep  his  promises  as  we  understand  them.  He 
does  not  remove  our  diseases  nor  heal  our  sick- 
nesses. Only  fanatics  believe  that ;  and  for  men 
who  value  sure  thinking,  fanaticism  is  too  great  a 
price  to  pay  for  peace.  He  does  not  remove  our 
weaknesses  all  at  once.  He  does  not  lift  the  fixed 
boundaries  of  existence,  or  change  the  order  in 
which  we  live.  He  does  not  transport  us  to  the 
Paradise  in  which  there  is  no  forbidden  tree,  in 
which  there  is  no  serpent,  no  possibility  of  fatal 


THE  FINAL   THEODICY  273 

deceit,  and  no  fall  from  honor.  This  is  not  our 
Master's  method  with  us.  He  leaves  us  where  he 
found  us,  in  the  world  of  toil,  misunderstanding, 
contradiction,  sorrow,  and  death.  He  leaves  us 
here,  and  he  works  upon  us  slowly.  Slowly  along 
the  avenues  of  thought,  along  the  paths  of  feel- 
ing, by  the  power  of  his  spirit  upon  our  spirit, 
slowly  he  works  upon  us,  almost  imperceptibly. 
Sickness  is  still  sickness,  temptation  is  still 
temptation,  the  severity  of  the  world  is  the  same 
relentless  thing,  loss  is  still  loss,  the  passing  of 
youth  is  the  immemorial  fact,  unchanged,  the 
coming  of  age  with  its  infirmity,  with  its  inca- 
pacity, and,  most  melancholy  of  all,  with  its  all  too 
frequent  breakdown  and  wreck,  is  the  old,  unal- 
tered, hateful,  mocking  face  of  fate.  What  ad- 
vantage hath  the  wise  over  the  fool  ?  What  gain 
is  there  in  Christian  discipleship  ?  What  does 
Christ  do  for  those  who  love  him  ?  It  is  clear 
that  he  does  not  change  their  world  or  their  fate  ; 
nor  does  he  change  them  at  a  stroke. 

Here  come  in  the  great  endeavors  of  high  minds 
to  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  man.  One  of  the 
noblest  of  all  Plato's  discussions  is  that  in  which 
he  meets  the  original  bewilderment  of  the  young 
mind  as  it  surveys  the  world.  Great  and  beau- 
tifid  is  his  showing  of  the  interior  strength 
and  peace  of  the  righteous  soul.  He  had  laid  to 
heart  the  great  utterance  of  his  dying  Master : 


274  THBOUGU  MAN   TO   GOD 

No  evil  can  happen  to  a  good  man,  whether  he 
be  alive  or  dead.  Wide  and  daring  is  the  reach 
of  thought  of  Leibnitz  in  the  same  great  service. 
Milton's  motive  in  "Paradise  Lost"  and  "Para- 
dise Regained  "  has  its  elevation  here,  and  at  the 
same  time  its  closeness  to  human  need.  We 
must  recall  his  solemn  invocation :  — 

"  And  chiefly  thou,  O  spirit  that  dost  prefer 
Before  all  temples  th'  upright  heart  and  pure, 
Instruct  me,  for  thou  know'st,  .  .  .  what  in  me  is  dark 
Illumine,  what  is  low  raise  and  support; 
That  to  the  height  of  this  great  argument 
I  may  assert  eternal  Providence, 
And  justify  the  way  of  God  to  men." 

Milton  is  thinking  not  primarily  of  the  fall  of 
Adam,  but  of  the  fall  of  Cromwell's  Common- 
wealth, the  wreck  therein  of  English  freedom, 
and  the  great  contradiction  of  God  that  rises  out 
of  the  depths  of  this  disaster.  Milton  was  driven 
back  upon  the  universal  disappointment  of  man 
in  God's  world  by  his  own  bitter  disappointment 
as  a  freeman.  In  this  way  we  all  live.  The  per- 
sonal sorrow  sends  us  to  raise  questions  in  the 
heart  of  the  human  and  ageless  sorrow.  We  must 
seek  peace  to-day  with  this  stern  order  through 
finding  light.  We  go  with  Paul  in  his  quest; 
we  join  him  in  his  discovery  ;  we  seek  to  rest  in 
the  great  vindication,  the  great  theodicy  in  which 
he  rested. 


THE  FINAL   THEODICY  275 

There  comes  a  time  when  noble  and  candid 
men  are  willing  to  confess  that  perhaps  God 
knew  better  than  they  how  to  make  the  world. 
There  comes  a  time  when  serious  disciples  of 
Jesus  Christ  are  willing  to  admit  that  perhaps 
their  Master  knows  his  woi'k  better  than  they. 
Paul  had  come  to  this  mood.  He  had  been  tor- 
mented with  some  strange  experience.  There 
was  a  thorn  in  his  flesh ;  it  was  cutting  and 
tearing  there  every  moment.  It  was  a  messenger 
of  Satan  sent  to  buffet  him.  That  this  thorn 
might  be  removed,  Paul  threw  his  whole  sovd 
into  prayer.  It  was  an  intense,  a  passionate,  and 
persistent  cry  to  God  for  relief  from  terrible 
pain.  It  was  a  cry  for  a  changed  environment. 
It  represents  the  great  burden  of  the  world's 
prayer  in  all  ages.  Ninety-nine  out  of  every 
hundred  prayers  that  have  been  offered  since  the 
morning  of  time  have  had  reference  to  environ- 
ment. We  pray  to  be  dehvered  from  pinching 
poverty,  from  uncongenial  tasks,  from  the  pre- 
sence of  people  who  are  unfriendly  and  unsym- 
pathetic. We  pray  that  failure  may  be  averted, 
that  sickness  may  not  come  near  our  beloved, 
that  the  shadow  of  death  may  be  turned  back. 
We  pray  for  a  heavenly  environment,  for  a  lot 
in  life  accordant  with  our  dreams  of  good,  for  a 
Paradise  without  a  forbidden  tree  and  without 
a  serpent.    These  are  the  burden  of  the  world's 


276  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

prayers  ;  and  these  are  the  prayers  to  which  the 
great  denial  comes.  Tennyson  puts  the  case  with 
truth  and  pathos :  — 

"  O  mother,  praying  God  will  save 

Thy  sailor,  —  while  thy  head  is  bow'd, 
His  heavy-shotted  hammock-shroud 
Drops  in  his  vast  and  wandering  grave." 

To  our  first  reflections,  there  is  something  appall- 
ing in  the  absolute  negative  which  God  returns 
to  most  of  the  prayers  that  are  offered  to  Him  by 
mortal  men. 

Paul's  prayer  was  not  granted,  but  something 
better  came  than  that  for  which  he  prayed,  — 
enduring  strength,  victorious  manhood,  the  joy  of 
the  Lord,  the  sense  of  a  triumphant  God  working 
in  the  very  heart  of  his  human  weaknesses  and 
sufferings.  Thus  it  was  that  the  world  as  God 
made  it  became  for  Paul  the  best  of  all  possible 
worlds.  Here  Paul  came  upon  the  great  vindica- 
tion of  God's  ways  to  men,  the  final  theodicy. 
Upon  this  discovery  several  remarks  must  be  made. 

1.  This  world,  as  it  stands,  as  God  made  it,  is 
man's  supreme  opportunity.  It  is  his  opportu- 
nity for  what  ?  For  heroism,  for  the  highest  type 
of  manhood.  One  thing  is  clear,  absolutely  clear, 
that  this  world  was  not  made  for  cowards.  For 
them  and  for  all  their  kin  it  is  the  worst  possible 
world.  It  calls  for  endurance,  self-denial,  devo- 
tion, magnanimity,  brave  service  with  no  stipula- 


THE  FINAL   THEODICY  277 

tion  about  wages.  It  runs  counter,  in  its  great 
tragic  currents,  to  the  entire  egoism  of  man. 
From  the  egoistic  position  it  appears  a  shocking 
world. 

On  the  other  hand,  this  world  as  it  stands  is 
the  best  possible  world  for  all  who  would  be  daunt- 
less, chivalrous,  of  a  temper  fine  and  high.  The 
bird  that  flies  in  the  storm  and  prevails,  the  ship 
that  sails  in  the  tempest  and  outlives  it,  the  hard- 
pressed  toiler  who  can  yet  make  both  ends  meet, 
the  business  man  consumed  by  anxiety  who  is 
yet  able  to  control  his  business  and  make  it  a 
success,  the  person  who  is  up  to  the  neck  in  temp- 
tation who  still  keeps  his  head  above  the  flood, 
the  individual  who  has  laid  in  the  hungry  earth 
his  beloved  and  whose  great  cry  is  "  The  Lord 
gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away,  blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord,"  is  surely  a  conqueror  and 
possessed  of  a  conqueror's  joy. 

In  your  Paradise  for  cowards  you  find  no  pa- 
triarch walking  with  God,  no  great  idealist  going 
out  "  not  knowing  whither  he  went,"  trusting  in 
the  Infinite,  none  enduring  as  seeing  Him  who 
is  invisible.  In  your  Paradise  for  cowards  there 
is  no  Hebrew  psalm,  no  epic  of  Job,  no  oracle 
of  prophet,  no  sweet  Bethlehem,  no  Gethsemane, 
no  Calvary,  no  Mount  of  Ascension.  In  the  hate- 
ful world  where  everything  makes  for  luxury, 
idleness,  effeminacy,  you  have  no  heroes,  no  mar- 


278  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

tyrs,  no  reformers.  In  such  a  world  there  can  be 
no  such  figure  as  the  Greek  Antigone,  pure,  vic- 
torious in  the  arms  of  death,  a  vision  of  strength 
and  glory  forever.  If  we  had  made  this  world, 
we  should  have  made  tragedy  impossible ;  and  in 
so  doing  we  should  have  made  the  human  race 
poor  indeed.  For  the  tragedy  of  the  world  is  the 
garden  of  the  Lord.  In  that  awful  movement  of 
cross-currents  between  ideals  and  experiences, 
dear  hopes  and  blank  negations,  to  which  we  give 
the  name  of  tragedy,  the  supreme  achievements 
and  possessions  of  man  are  found,  —  strength, 
love,  dauntless  courage,  inward  victory,  and  the 
sense  that  below  the  waves  and  billows  that  have 
gone  over  us  is  the  tide  that  will  carry  us,  alive 
or  dead,  to  our  own  shore.  The  world  as  it  is  has 
brought  to  men  and  women  the  vision  of  home. 
The  world  as  it  is  has  somehow  permitted  love 
and  its  sacrament.  The  world  as  it  is  has  wrimg 
from  the  human  heart  the  great  psalms.  It  has 
brought  from  the  human  mind  its  great  light. 
It  has  somehow  given  us  great  character.  The 
world  as  it  is  has  given  us  Jesus  Christ  and  all 
his  worthful  followers. 

2.  This  world  as  it  is,  is  God's  opportunity. 
When  Paul  began  life,  he  had  many  things  in 
him  that  he  needed  taken  out  of  him.  He  was  a 
proud  man.  His  joy  in  existence  consisted  largely 
in  his  sense  of  superiority  to  other  men.    That 


THE  FINAL  THEODICY  279 

is  a  tremendous  weakness.  It  means  isolation 
from  much  of  the  best  life  of  the  race  ;  it  means, 
therefore,  sore  limitation,  inevitable  impoverish- 
ment, incapacity  for  certain  great  experiences, 
and  along  all  true  lines  diminished  capacity  for 
growth.  Pride  is,  at  the  same  time,  a  stain  upon 
the  best  character,  like  an  ink  spot  on  a  piece  of 
tapestry,  like  a  poison  working  in  a  strong  and 
otherwise  sound  body,  like  a  hidden  falsehood 
corrupting  the  integrity  of  an  honest  intellect. 
This  was  one  of  Paul's  weaknesses ;  it  shut 
him  in  from  the  great  life  of  humanity,  it  gave 
him  a  mean  delight. 

In  this  world  as  it  is  God  took  Paul,  and  so 
wrought  upon  him  that  his  chief  joy  was  found 
in  the  common  possession  of  Christian  men,  — 
in  his  intelligence  directed  upon  God  with  devout 
and  grateful  homage,  in  his  heart  open  to  the 
empire  of  Christ  and  invoking  his  presence,  in 
his  life  given  in  service  to  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Paul  came  to  have  his  chief  joy  in  the  God  who  is 
the  Father  of  all,  in  the  Christ  who  is  the  Saviour 
of  all,  in  the  kingdom  that  ruleth  over  all. 

Was  not  that  a  great  thing  to  do  for  Paul  ? 
Was  the  world  not  a  good  world  in  which  so 
great  a  thing  was  done  ?  Was  not  the  proud 
man  in  his  proud  isolation  God's  opportunity  ? 
Did  not  the  stern  order  of  things  serve  God  as 
a  field  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  great  work  ? 


280  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

He  found  the  proud  man  upon  his  poor  perch, 
not  fit  for  an  owl,  and  he  brought  hira  down  to 
the  sense  of  equality  with  the  humblest  of  his 
kind.  For,  after  all,  the  best  gift  is  humanity, 
and  every  human  being  shares  in  that.  You  recall 
Browning's  great  words  in  "  Paracelsus."  The 
proud  man  has  come  at  last  to  his  strength :  — 

"  I  want  to  be  forgotten  even  by  God. 
But  if  that  cannot  be,  dear  Festus,  lay  me, 
When  I  shall  die,  within  some  narrow  grave, 
Not  by  itself  —  for  that  would  be  too  proud  — 
But  where  such  graves  are  thickest ;  let  it  look 
Nowise  distinguished  from  the  hillocks  round, 
So  that  the  peasant  at  his  brother's  bed 
May  tread  upon  my  own  and  know  it  not  ; 
And  we  shall  all  be  equal  at  the  last." 

Another  weakness  of  Paul,  akin  to  that  de- 
scribed, was  his  abnormal  sense  of  tribal  and 
sectarian  distinction.  Was  he  not  a  Pharisee  of 
the  Pharisees  ?  Was  he  not  of  the  tribe  of  Ben- 
jamin? Was  he  not  a  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews? 
And  did  any  man  ever  wrap  his  garments  about 
him  in  the  sense  of  exclusive  privilege  vnth 
more  joy  than  he?  In  this  mood,  living  in  this 
world,  God  found  Paul.  Hear  him  speak  when 
he  had  been  delivered  from  this  weakness.  "  How- 
beit  what  things  were  gain  to  me,  these  have  I 
counted  loss  for  Christ.  Yea  verily,  and  I  count 
all  things  to  be  loss  for  the  excellency  of  the 
knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord :  for  whom 


THE  FINAL   THEODICY  281 

I  suffered  the  loss  of  all  things,  and  do  count 
them  but  refuse,  that  I  may  gain  Christ :  .  .  .  that 
I  may  know  him,  and  the  power  of  his  resurrec- 
tion, and  the  fellowship  of  his  sufferings."  This 
man  has  entered  the  highest  life  of  his  kind. 
He  has  sm'rendered  exclusiveness  for  community 
in  the  sorrow,  service,  and  hope  of  a  redeemed 
race.  He  has  abandoned  aristocracy  under  law 
for  democracy  under  the  spirit  of  God.  In  this 
world  God  has  turned  this  Jewish  aristocrat  into 
the  supreme  democrat  of  his  age ;  so  that  now 
he  goes  everywhere,  to  Jews,  Greeks,  Romans, 
barbarians,  bond,  and  free,  as  the  debtor  of  all, 
struggling  through  monumental  services  to  dis- 
charge this  debt  to  the  race  through  fellowship 
wath  whom  God  has  given  him  a  supreme  life. 
Who  would  not  live  in  this  world  for  this  end? 
Who  would  not  suffer  that  he  might  become, 
like  Paul,  the  broad-breasted,  high-souled,  daunt- 
less servant  of  man  ?  And  who  that  has  become 
a  free  communicant  through  service  in  the  best 
life  of  the  race  would  not  find  in  this  experience 
a  witness  for  the  divine  order  of  the  world  ? 

Paul  was  naturally  an  irritable  man.  Almost 
all  persons  worth  anything  are  troubled  with  this 
form  of  weakness.  It  is  the  defect  of  their  virtue. 
They  are  sensitive,  full  of  zeal,  fuU  of  insight 
and  power.  The  tendency  to  impatience  and 
irritability  goes  with  these  high  quaKties.    Irri- 


282  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

tability  is  simply  unusual  capacity  to  stimulation, 
to  inspiration.  The  men  who  feel  quickly  and 
profoundly  the  appeals  from  the  wise  feel  quickly 
and  deeply  the  appeals  from  the  foolish.  A  dis- 
cord is  a  disaster  to  a  Beethoven,  because  to  him 
a  harmony  is  a  kind  of  heaven.  The  great,  keen, 
intense,  responsive  soul  has  unusual  privileges 
among  the  wise  and  unusual  miseries  among  the 
foolish.  There  is  little  credit  to  an  oyster  for  its 
calm ;  but  there  is  a  great  deal  of  credit  to  a 
high-strung  man  or  woman  in  the  exercise  of 
benign  seK-control. 

There  is  one  incident  in  Paul's  life  that  shows 
his  temper.  He  was  called  before  the  High 
Priest  to  answer  for  his  behavior.  The  High 
Priest  stood  to  Jewish  society  very  much  as  the 
Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States  stands  to  our  citizens.  The  High  Priest 
said  something  that  was  morally  wrong  ;  he  com- 
manded some  one  to  smite  Paul  for  what  he  had 
been  saying.  This  outrageous  command  ignited 
a  powder  magazine  in  Paul's  manhood.  He 
shouted  to  the  High  Priest :  "  God  shall  smite 
thee,  thou  whited  wall !  "  Imagine  a  citizen 
using  that  style  of  address  to  the  Chief  Justice. 
Paul  apologized  and  withdrew  the  offensive  re- 
mark; nevertheless,  the  remark  is  illuminating, 
as  it  shows  the  capacity  in  him  for  sudden  and 
terrible  rage.    And  here  was  God's  opportunity. 


THE  FINAL   THEODICY  283 

Before  life  was  done,  under  the  divine  discipline 
Paul  had  become  one  of  the  most  patient,  one  of 
the  most  magnanimous,  one  of  the  most  com- 
pletely seK-controlled  men  that  ever  trod  the 
earth.  Are  these  things  not  worth  considering? 
Just  as  this  world  is  the  hero's  chance  to  show 
himself  a  hero,  so  this  world  is  God's  chance  to 
show  his  power  in  the  redeemed  manhood  in  it. 
Think  well  of  the  world  that  gives  this  chance 
both  to  man  and  to  God. 

Two  contrasted  conceptions  of  the  highest 
human  character  appear  in  the  ancient  world. 
To  the  highest  Greek  thought  the  best  human 
life  was  the  self-sufficient.  It  is  a  noble  con- 
ception with  many  elements  of  truth  in  it.  It 
fails  of  completeness  because  it  isolates  man  from 
the  sympathetic  heart  of  the  universe,  from  the 
store  of  strength  that  exists  for  man  in  the  In- 
finite soul.  The  self-sufficient  life  is  unattainable ; 
its  ideal  carries  with  it  something  of  pride  and 
disdain,  and  it  does  not  reckon  with  the  weak- 
ness of  mortal  existence.  A  few  rare  souls,  be- 
cause of  fortunate  instinctive  receptivities  toward 
the  Eternal  helper  of  men,  may  climb  high  in 
the  composure  of  self-sufficient  manhood.  Alas ! 
for  the  vast  majority,  if  man  must  be  his  own 
maker,  if  there  be  no  One  mightier  than  he 
working  with  him  and  in  him.  Indeed,  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  self-sufficiency.    While  we  live, 


284  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

we  nourish  the  body  out  of  the  infinite ;  when  we 
live  our  best,  we  nourish  the  heart  out  of  home, 
friendship,  history,  humanity ;  we  live  in  God. 

The  gospel  has  nothing  to  say  of  seK-suf&- 
ciency.  Jesus  says,  "  I  can  of  my  own  self  do 
nothing."  Paul  says,  "  Our  sufficiency  is  of 
God."  For  the  self-sufficient  life  of  Greek 
thought  we  have  the  God-sufficient  life  of  the 
gospel.  In  God  we  live  and  move  and  have  our 
being.  God  is  our  refuge  and  strength.  There 
is  no  hope  for  man  but  in  God.  "  The  eternal 
God  is  thy  refuge,  and  underneath  are  the  ever- 
lasting arms."  This  is  the  ideal  that  answers  to 
human  need.  The  weakness,  the  pain,  the  limita- 
tion, the  thorn  in  the  flesh  is  here ;  here  it  re- 
mains, destroying  all  hope  of  self-sufficiency,  but 
making  ready  the  soul  for  God's  sufficiency. 
We  shall  attain  the  self-sufficient  life  when  we 
can  piit  our  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  Orion's  sword ; 
every  morning  we  may  awake  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  sufficient  grace  of  God. 

Here  is  our  difficulty.  The  world  as  it  is, 
without  God,  is  too  much  for  us.  We  take  our 
opportunity  and  we  forget  to  give  God  his  oppor- 
tunity. You  have  seen  a  cloud  in  the  shadow 
toward  evening,  cold,  dark,  unsightly,  and  you 
have  seen  that  same  cloud  float  into  the  path  of 
the  setting  sun.  You  beheld  it  then  no  longer 
cold  and  dark,  but  aU  fair,  aU  dyed,  all  glorified 


THE  FINAL   THEODICY  285 

in  the  blazing  west.  That  cloud  in  the  shadow 
is  man  without  God.  That  cloud  all  light,  all 
fire,  all  splendor  in  the  path  of  the  setting  sun  is 
man's  humanity  in  the  path  of  God,  shot  through 
with  his  love,  purified  and  transfigured  by  his 
glorious  Presence.  For  those  who  live  in  God 
the  vain  aspiration  of  Faust  becomes  experi- 
ence and  hope.  Watching  the  setting  sun  Faust 
sings  :  — 

"  But  still  doth  he  survive, 
Still  speeds  he  on  with  life-diffusing  beam  — 
Oh !  that  no  wing  uplifts  me  from  the  ground 
Nearer  and  nearer  after  him  to  strive! 
Then  should  I  the  reposing  world  behold 
Still  in  this  everlasting  evening  glow. 
In  vain  the  rugged  mountain  rears  his  breast 
With  darkening  cliff  and  cave  to  bar  my  way, 
Onward  in  heaven  still  onward  is  my  flight,  — 
Before  me  day  —  behind  me  is  the  night." 


XVI 
THE  UPPER  ROOM 

"  And  when  they  were  come  in,  they  went  up  into  the  upper  room, 
where  they  were  abiding." 

Acts  i,  13. 

What  are  some  of  the  human  sources  of  wisdom 
and  peace  ?  That  may  seem  to  be  a  vain  question 
to  those  who  seek  for  the  great  answer  to  the  needs 
of  man's  spirit  outside  the  sphere  of  man's  being. 
It  is  not  vain  to  those  who  connect  the  best  in 
man  with  the  deepest  in  God.  The  horn  of  the 
old  Norse  god  could  not  be  emptied  because  the 
lower  end  of  it  rested  in  the  sea ;  whoever  tried 
to  empty  that  horn  tried  to  drain  the  inexhaust- 
ible sea.  Man's  soul  is  like  that  horn.  In  de- 
tachment it  is  weak,  in  isolation  it  is  nothing. 
In  its  normal  life  it  rests  in  God.  It  is  great  be- 
cause it  rests  in  Him.  God  stands  in  an  eternal 
flood  tide  in  the  instincts,  capacities,  and  experi- 
ences of  prophetic  souls.  When  we  sound  them 
for  wisdom,  inspiration,  and  peace,  we  find  that 
we  are  sounding  in  God.  When  we  seek  a  God 
beyond  humanity,  we  are  pursuing  an  illusion,  we 
are  chasing  a  shadow ;  when  we  turn  to  God  in 
humanity,  we  find  the  Eternal  help  at  our  door. 


THE   UPPER  ROOM  287 

The  upper  room  stands  at  the  heart  of  the 
New  Testament.  It  is  touched  with  an  abiding 
and  an  inexpressible  sanctity.  It  is  involved  with 
the  highest  thoughts,  the  loftiest  feelings,  the 
most  exalted  fellowships,  and  the  divinest  hopes. 
It  is  the  sanctuary  of  the  world's  greatest  faith; 
it  is  the  centre  of  the  world's  profoundest  sor- 
row and  hope.  It  is  only  a  symbol,  but  it  is  a 
symbol  for  the  whole  range  of  what  is  highest 
and  best  in  faith  and  in  life. 

The  upper  room  is  first  of  all  associated  with 
Christ.  There  with  his  disciples  he  for  the  last 
time  kept  the  Passover  and  turned  that  feast 
into  the  Lord's  Supper.  It  is  the  sign  of  the  sub- 
limity of  his  teaching  and  spirit.  There  is  the 
association  of  which  the  text  speaks,  the  associ- 
ation between  the  upper  room  and  the  disciples. 
It  is  the  token  of  the  exaltation  of  purpose,  expe- 
rience, service,  and  fellowship  to  which  they  had 
been  lifted.  To  these  two,  which  in  a  sense  cover 
everything,  a  third  must  be  added.  There  was 
the  upper  room  in  which  Dorcas,  that  dear  friend 
of  the  poor,  was  laid  after  death,  in  which  she  was 
restored  to  life.  It  is  the  emblem  of  the  world  to 
which  we  raise  the  beloved  and  venerated  dead, 
in  which  they  come  back  to  us  with  living  power. 

1.  The  sublimity  of  Christ  is  the  fundamental 
and  growing  insight  of  aU  true  readers  of  the 
New  Testament.   Great  is  the  thought  of  God 


288  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

which  the  last  and  greatest  of  Greek  philosophers 
gave  to  the  world.  To  have  been  able  to  sum  up 
the  universe  in  a  Divine  Thinker  for  whom  all 
things  exist,  and  who  is  infinitely  above  all  things, 
was  a  great  achievement.  And  yet  the  thought 
of  God  entertained  by  Greek  philosophy  at  its 
best  is  far  below  the  conception  of  God  found  in 
the  prophets  and  psalmists  of  Israel.  To  have 
conceived  of  God  as  the  Righteous  Ruler  of  the 
world,  inviting  men  into  communion  with  his 
life,  and  compassionating  the  weak  and  sinful 
as  a  father  pities  his  children,  was  a  wondrous 
advance  upon  all  preceding  forms  of  faith.  Into 
these  old  words  Jesus  put  new  worlds  of  meaning. 
Think  what  Jesus  meant  by  righteousness,  by 
pity,  by  fatherhood.  Personality,  love,  compas- 
sion, the  reign  of  righteousness,  meant  infinitely 
more  for  Jesus  than  for  all  other  teachers.  He 
often  uses  the  words  that  they  use,  but  his 
thought,  liis  transcendent  vision,  is  his  own.  The 
child  uses  the  word  love ;  it  is  a  beautiful  word, 
and  carries  a  beautiful  meaning  upon  its  tongue. 
The  mother  uses  the  same  word,  but  does  it  not 
stand  for  a  vaster  and  holier  world  ?  In  1856 
there  were  boys  in  England  who  used  the  word 
brave,  and  they  put  sincere  passion  into  it;  but 
what  comparison  is  there  between  their  use  of 
the  word  and  that  of  the  men  who  made  the 
charge  of  the  Light  Brigade  ?  The  Lord's  Prayer 


THE  UPPER   ROOM  289 

on  the  lips  of  Carlyle,  when  a  child  by  his  mother's 
side,  in  Eeclefechan,  and  the  Lord's  Prayer  upon 
the  lips  of  the  lonely  old  man  awaiting  death  in 
London  fourscore  years  afterwards,  are  surely 
infinitely  different.  The  question  is,  after  all, 
one  of  meaning  and  not  of  words.  Originality 
does  not  lie  in  phraseology,  but  in  insight.  The 
subjects  of  human  thought  were  old  even  when 
Christ  came.  His  originality  hes  where  all  true 
originality  must  ever  lie,  in  the  depth,  the  ade- 
quacy, the  finality  of  the  meaning  which  he  put 
into  the  old  words.  He  took  the  old  words  about 
God  and  the  kingdom  of  God,  about  the  soul 
and  sin  and  righteousness,  about  forgiveness 
and  service  and  life  after  death,  and  he  filled 
them  with  a  new  and  heavenly  content.  It  is 
the  same  old  table  round  which  he  gathers  men, 
but  the  bread  is  now  the  bread  of  heaven.  It 
is  the  same  cup  that  he  passes  to  his  disciples, 
but  it  is  now  running  over  with  the  water  of 
life.  One  man  shows  us  a  real,  but  poor,  pic- 
ture of  Niagara,  and  we  are  thankful  for  that. 
Another  with  wondrous  gift  of  speech  describes 
the  stupendous  thing :  and  we  add  this  to  the  pic- 
ture and  feel  that  we  have  gained  much.  Still 
another  takes  us  to  see  the  cataract  itseK.  That 
is  the  supreme  service.  Greek  philosophy  is  the 
picture  real  but  imperfect,  Hebrew  prophecy  is 
the  inspired  description,  Jesus  Christ  is  the  im- 


290  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOB 

mediate,  awestruck,  and  overwhelming  vision  of 
God. 

But  the  sublimity  of  the  teaching  is  less 
impressive  than  the  sublimity  of  the  character 
of  Jesus.  Thought  is  always  easier  than  action, 
and  therefore  the  perfect  will  is  higher  than  the 
perfect  vision.  And  no  one  can  think  of  the 
upper  room  without  thinking  of  the  exaltation 
of  the  life  that  first  conferred  all  its  meaning 
upon  that  place.  The  wonder  of  its  beginning, 
the  one  beautiful  vision  that  we  have  of  it  in 
boyhood,  the  silence  of  its  youth  about  which  we 
can  only  dream,  the  last  and  greatest  epoch  in 
human  history  introduced  on  the  day  that  Christ 
began  his  public  ministry,  the  union  in  that 
ministry  of  an  unspeakable  service  to  the  bodies 
and  the  minds  and  the  souls  of  the  multitudes 
who  followed  him,  the  revelation  which  he  made 
at  every  step  forward,  not  only  of  the  glory  of 
his  intelligence,  but  also  of  the  heights  of  his 
character,  the  revolution  in  faith,  in  ideals,  in 
obligations,  and  in  conduct  that  he  inaugurated, 
the  enmity  that  he  encountered,  the  infamy  to 
which  he  was  subjected,  the  suffering  as  the  per- 
fect servant  of  God  and  man  which  he  endured, 
are  the  great  chapters  that  teU  of  the  sublimity 
of  the  Founder  of  Christianity.  The  upper  room 
stands  for  the  subhme  teaching  and,  yet  more, 
for  the  sublime  soul  of  Christ.    Look  upon  him 


THE  ZfPPEE  BOOM  291 

at  that  last  supper,  and  behold  in  his  face  and 
speech  and  spirit  and  manner  the  highest  in 
human  history.  The  first  thing  in  our  thought 
to-day  is  the  sublimity  of  the  Master  who  brings 
us  to  God  that  he  may  bring  us  to  ourselves. 
The  upper  room  tells  first  of  all  of  the  teaching 
that  is  the  perfection  of  the  world's  faith  about 
God  and  about  man,  and  of  the  life  that  is 
wholly  from  above. 

2.  The  second  great  meaning  of  the  upper 
room  is  the  inspiration  of  the  disciples.  They 
doubtless  thought,  as  they  gathered  there,  of  the 
former  gathering  with  their  Master.  The  apos- 
tolic upper  room  took  on  depth  and  tenderness 
from  the  upper  room  of  Christ,  to  which  it  an- 
swered. The  first  stood  for  the  solitary  glory  of 
their  Master;  the  second  stood  for  the  power  of 
that  Master  out  of  the  unseen  over  their  souls. 

Inspiration,  that  is  the  first  great  meaning 
of  Pentecost.  There  came  upon  the  Apostles 
through  their  faith  and  their  fellowship  and 
their  prayer  a  flood  of  new  power.  New  and 
wondrous  insights  into  the  meaning  of  Christ's 
mission  came  flocking  in  upon  them  like  winged 
messengers  from  heaven,  new  appreciations  of 
all  that  they  had  seen  their  Master  do,  of  all 
that  they  had  heard  him  speak,  of  all  that  they 
had  beheld  him  endure.  A  whole  world  of 
interpretation   rose   upon    them   through   their 


292  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

thought  and  their  worship,  an  interpretation  of 
the  career  of  Jesus  Christ.  And  in  closest 
union  with  this  new  and  wondrous  insight  was 
intense  and  holy  passion.  The  heavenly  vision 
had  come  to  them,  and  the  power  to  follow  it 
thrilled  their  whole  existence.  Out  of  this  in- 
spiration, an  inspiration  that  involved  both  a 
heavenly  vision  and  a  heavenly  passion,  came 
the  entire  service,  character,  and  power  of  their 
lives.  The  upper  room  was  to  the  disciples  the 
sign  of  a  new  and  permanent  inspiration,  an 
inspiration  that  gradually  changed  all  their 
thoughts,  that  slowly  shaped  all  their  feelings, 
that  ultimately  controlled  their  whole  being  and 
hope. 

Have  we  no  upper  room?  Did  the  first  disci- 
ples alone  possess  this  correspondence  with  the 
Master?  Are  his  inspirations  spent?  Is  there 
no  place  where  we  can  gather,  where  we  can 
open  our  whole  being  to  the  Highest,  where 
through  sincere  penitence  and  honest  prayer  and 
brotherly  fellowship  and  devout  and  reverent 
worship  we  may  receive  power  from  above  ? 

Surely  we  need  this  inspiration  from  on  high. 
All  our  instincts,  all  our  feelings,  all  our  powers, 
and  all  our  opportunities  may  be  taken  hold  of 
in  either  of  two  ways.  We  may  run  the  higher 
down  into  the  lower,  or  we  may  lift  and  transfig- 
ure the  lower  by  the  higher.    Are  not  the  noblest 


THE   UPPER  ROOM  293 

among  us  the  most  deeply  conscious  that  they 
are  not  dealing  honorably  by  their  life?  How 
painfully  conscious  the  best  parents  are  of  the 
fact  that  they  have  never  yet  risen  to  the  upper 
ranges  of  parenthood  !  How  profoundly  true  this 
is  of  noble  friends,  noble  lovers,  noble  business 
men,  noble  citizens !  We  are  living  in  relation- 
ships in  which  God  has  placed  us ;  his  purpose  ap- 
pears to  us  in  these  relationships  as  a  mountain 
which  we  have  never  yet  had  strength  to  climb ; 
and  yet  we  know  that  until  we  do  stand  upon  the 
summit  of  this  mountain  of  the  Lord,  we  shall 
never  behold  God's  world  as  it  is,  we  shall  never 
be  able  to  rejoice  before  God  as  we  should. 

Here  is  our  terrible  peril.  For  want  of  inspi- 
ration, for  want  of  courage  and  strength,  we  miss 
the  best  in  our  life.  We  fail  to  rise,  we  sink. 
We  take  low  visions  of  our  own  nature,  low  views 
of  the  order  of  relations  in  which  men  live,  low 
views  of  our  privileges,  our  joys,  our  opportuni- 
ties and  obligations.  The  highest  and  best  use 
of  life  eludes  us,  we  take  our  entire  existence  by 
the  vmder  side.  Everywhere  you  see  men  missing 
the  rich  and  high  possibility.  The  capitalist  lets 
humanity  slip  from  his  mastership,  the  laborer 
lets  high-mindedness  go  from  his  service,  the 
friend  loses  disinterestedness  from  his  friendship, 
the  lover  allows  honor  and  chivaby  to  fly  from  his 
love,  the  father  fails  to  keep  the  awe  and  the  joy 


294  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

with  which  God  filled  his  heart  when  he  made 
him  a  father,  the  son  drops  from  his  sonhood  the 
high  respect  that  made  it  great,  the  citizen  has 
consented  to  become  conformed  to  the  standard 
of  the  self-seeking  pohtician.  There  is  the  sad 
story.  The  fall  of  Adam  may  be  a  myth;  the 
fall  of  his  descendants  is  the  deepest  and  saddest 
thing  in  human  experience.  That  old  garden 
story  with  which  the  Bible  opens  has  an  ever- 
lasting symbolic  value.  It  tells  the  story  of  the 
race  through  its  story  about  the  first  man  and 
woman.  The  high  possibility  was  allowed  to 
go ;  life  was  not  taken  to  the  loftiest  level.  The 
business  of  existence  was  permitted  to  drop,  and 
all  its  interests  lost  their  character,  their  influ- 
ence, their  power  and  joy.  That  is  our  life.  We 
are  unequal  to  life's  highest  possibility.  It  is 
capable  of  infinitely  better  things  than  we  have 
done  with  it.  It  has  ranges  of  truth  and  honor 
and  love  and  joy  that  we  have  hardly  seen,  and 
upon  which  we  have  never  set  our  dominion. 

Here  is  our  need  of  inspiration,  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Here  is  the  significance 
of  our  weekly  gatherings  in  this  place.  We  are 
here  in  fellowship,  we  are  here  to  give  thanks, 
to  speak  our  inmost  thought  and  want  to  the  In- 
finite, to  join  in  the  worship  that  man  may  offer 
to  the  Eternal  Father.  We  come  here  under  the 
sense  of  the  momentousness  of  living,  sure  that 


THE   UPPER  ROOM  295 

this  is  a  great  universe  in  the  bosom  of  which  we 
are  gathered,  surmising  at  least  that  there  is 
a  hidden  dignity  in  our  souls,  and  somewhere, 
awaiting  our  discovery,  a  grandeur  about  our  op- 
portunities. Under  this  burdening  sense  of  the 
greatness  of  life,  with  this  confident  guess  about 
the  possible  worth  of  existence,  with  the  sublime 
surmise  that  the  universe  may  at  any  hour  be- 
come for  us  a  manifestation  of  Infinite  Love,  or 
with  the  desperate  hope  that  all  things  may  prove 
altogether  better  than  our  fears,  we  gather  here. 
We  look  for  insight  and  for  passion.  We  need 
to  see  our  path  and  to  love  it.  The  flood  of  light 
and  the  flood  of  love  ;  for  these  we  wait  in  this 
upper  room.  And  as  of  old,  the  sanctuary  is 
still  one  of  the  places  where  men  are  lifted  above 
their  low  views,  their  tormenting  doubts,  their 
terrible  fears,  their  unspoken  blasphemies  against 
the  Highest.  There  men  still  see  the  horror  of 
wickedness,  and  the  truth  and  peace  of  a  good  life. 
Insight  and  enthusiasm,  —  these  are  our  needs. 
Life  must  become  great  in  the  discovery  that  it 
was  made  to  be  the  servant  of  the  righteous  God. 
The  routine  of  our  days,  the  duU  task,  the  unro- 
mantic  duty,  the  prosaic  fellowship,  the  whole 
order  of  existence  from  which  all  novelty,  or  even 
the  hope  of  it,  has  long  since  fled,  shines  in  won- 
drous light  when  with  open  eyes  we  look  into  the 
heart  of  God's  law.    Then  there  come  together 


296  THBOUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

two  surprises,  the  surprise  that  what  has  been 
given  us  to  do  is  so  great,  and  the  surprise  that 
our  hearts  answer  this  call  with  fullness  of  power. 
Think  of  some  wondrous  singer,  a  Jenny  Lind, 
singing  the  same  piece  over  and  over  again  till 
through  wearing  repetition  it  has  shrunken  to  a 
petty  thing,  all  at  once,  on  some  bright  morning, 
upon  taking  the  first  notes  of  the  really  great 
song,  as  by  a  flash  of  light  seeing  into  the  heart 
of  its  greatness.  What  happens?  Instantly 
the  voice  greatens  to  the  greatness  of  the  task. 
The  new  insight  awakens  the  new  passion,  and 
calls  forth  the  new  power.  Range  after  range  of 
voice  reveals  itself,  new  capacities  rise  up  out  of 
the  depths  and  sing  out  of  the  heights.  The 
inspired  instrument  runs  up  and  down  the  scale 
like  angel  feet  upon  the  ladders  that  reach  from 
earth  to  heaven.  The  singer,  lost  in  the  sense  of 
the  greatness  of  the  song,  is  amazed  at  the  com- 
pass, the  character,  the  fire  and  power  of  her  own 
voice.  She  found  God  in  the  piece,  and  she  is 
overawed  as  she  looks  inward  to  find  God  in  her 
own  power.  That  is  the  surprise  of  life.  While 
we  wait  in  the  upper  room,  while  we  wait  in 
prayer  and  fellowship,  the  great  light  comes. 
The  poor  petty  task  looms  up  into  unspeakable 
greatness,  and  while  we  look  on  it  in  wonder  and 
delight,  the  great  answer  forms  itself  in  our 
hearts.   As  we  take  up  the  old  song  of  existence 


THE    UPPER   ROOM  297 

in  this  new  revelation  of  its  transcendent  mean- 
ing, the  great  inward  surprise  comes.  New  con- 
centrations of  mind,  new  comprehensions  issuing 
in  high  and  settled  wisdom,  new  depths  of  love 
and  strength  of  purpose  and  power  of  execution, 
amaze  the  soul.  In  finding  God  in  our  duty,  we 
discover  God  in  the  range  and  richness  and 
mastery  of  our  own  powers.  In  the  upper  room 
we  wait  for  the  inspiration  of  the  spirit  of  God. 

3.  And  up  into  that  sanctuary  we  shoidd 
carry  our  dead.  The  Dorcas  story  has  a  won- 
derful hint  in  it  for  all  who  stand  in  the  great 
succession  of  sorrow.  In  the  upper  room  the 
dead  was  laid,  in  the  upper  room  the  dead  came 
back  to  life.  I  believe  that  if  we  carry  our  dead 
to  the  highest  in  our  nature,  they  wiU  assuredly 
live  again  for  us  in  ever  richer  power. 

Where  shall  we  lay  our  dead  ?  Shall  we  put 
them  as  soon  as  we  can  in  the  dark  chamber  of 
f orgetf ulness  ?  Shall  we  lower  them  into  the 
dungeon  of  doubt  ?  Shall  we  retain  them  in  the 
room  of  regret  and  grief,  that  we  may  forever 
cover  them  with  our  tears  ?  Surely  our  noble 
dead,  they  who  have  fought  the  good  fight, 
deserve  something  better  at  our  hands.  Let  us 
show  our  immortal  honor  for  them  by  carrying 
them  to  the  highest  within  our  souls,  and  there 
in  the  uppermost  room  of  peaceful  faith  in  God, 
in  sweet  reconciliation  to  his  will,  in  devoutest 


298  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

thankfidness  and  in  dearest  remembrance  of  the 
good  that  they  have  done  us,  let  us  lay  them 
there.  In  highest  honor  and  gratitude  and  hope, 
let  them  forever  rest.  They  deserve  to  rest  there. 
And  while  they  seem  dead,  while  the  absent  apos- 
tle tarries,  and  they  look  as  if  they  had  bidden 
us  an  eternal  farewell,  they  will  still  fill  the 
whole  of  that  life  in  whose  highest  venerations 
they  are  laid  with  the  peace  of  God. 

"  Let  us  begin  and  carry  up  this  corpse, 

Singing  together. 
Leave  we  the  unlettered  plain  its  herd  and  crop, 

Seek  we  sepulture 
On  a  tall  mountain,  citied  to  the  top, 

Crowded  with  culture  ! 
Thither  our  path  lies;  wind  we  up  the  heights: 

Wait  ye  the  warning  ? 
Our  low  life  was  the  level's  and  the  night's, 

He  's  for  the  morning. 
Step  to  a  tune,  square  chests,  erect  each  head, 

'Ware  the  beholders; 
This  is  our  Master,  famous,  calm  and  dead. 

Borne  on  our  shoulders. 
Here  's  the  top-peak,  the  multitude  below 

Live,  for  they  can  there : 
This  man  decided  not  to  live  but  know  — 

Bury  this  man  there? 
Here  —  here 's  his  place,  where  meteors  shoot,  clouds  form, 

Lightnings  are  loosened, 
Stars  come  and  go  !    Let  joy  break  with  the  storm, 

Peace  let  the  dew  send  ! 
Leave  him  —  still  loftier  than  the  world  suspects. 

Living  and  dying." 


THE   UPPER  ROOM  299 

But  this  is  not  the  end.  In  a  way  so  easily 
and  grossly  caricatured  the  dead  do  return  to 
life.  They  come  back  in  wisdom,  in  love,  in  all 
high  faith  and  deep  feeling.  They  come  back  in 
power.  The  dead  fathers  and  mothers  of  the 
world,  through  the  pious  and  loving  memory  and 
imagination  of  their  cliildren,  still  do  much  to 
guide  and  bless  the  world.  Any  soul  that  one 
has  ever  really  known,  any  spirit  from  whom  one 
has  really  drawn  wisdom  and  courage  for  the 
struggle  of  life,  cannot  be  taken  away  by  death. 
We  miss  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand,  and  the 
sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still,  but  upon  the  heart 
the  hand  is  mightier,  upon  the  soul  the  voice  is 
deeper.  Nothing  is  more  true,  nothing  is  more 
a  part  of  the  higher  life  of  mankind,  than  this 
increase  of  power  after  death  of  those  who  have 
been  revered  and  loved  upon  those  who  have 
revered  and  loved  them.  Our  Lord  told  his  dis- 
ciples that  it  was  expedient  for  them  that  he 
should  go  away.  They  did  not,  they  could  not 
believe  it.  But  before  they  came  to  the  end  of 
life,  they  felt  the  truth  of  his  words.  The  unseen 
Christ  was  the  mightier  Christ.  The  disciples 
laid  their  Lord  in  their  highest  veneration,  in 
their  most  thankful  love,  and  he  returned  to 
them,  and  filled  their  lives  with  the  tokens  of 
his  power.  This  is  the  law  of  the  kingdom 
of  God.    We  live  out  of  the  invisible.    When  we 


300  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

are  at  our  best,  the  unseen  God,  the  unseen 
Christ,  the  unseen  dead  whom  we  dearly  love 
and  gratefully  remember,  are  a  part  of  our  exist- 
ence. If  power  is  the  final  test  of  reality,  our 
dead  are  most  real,  they  are  at  our  side  in  the 
great  spiritual  communion  in  which  we  stand. 

I  have  spoken  as  if  there  were  three  upper 
rooms,  that  of  the  divine  Christ,  that  of  the 
insjjired  disciple,  that  of  heavenly  sorrow  and 
resurrection.  The  three  are  really  one.  Chi'ist 
is  in  the  first ;  that  is  plain.  He  is  in  the  sec- 
ond, for  the  inspiration  is  from  him.  And  he  is 
in  the  third,  for  in  his  name  the  dead  Dorcas  was 
restored  to  life.  He  is  in  the  third,  for  without 
him,  —  his  teaching,  his  personal  triumph  ovet 
death,  his  power  over  the  soul,  his  representative 
value  Godwara  and  man  ward,  —  sorrow  cannot 
be  lifted  to  the  eternal  light  and  transfigured 
there  ;  without  him  our  dead  cannot  five  again 
for  us.  The  three  are  one,  and  that  one  upper 
room  is  a  possibility  in  every  life. 

The  upper  room  is  indeed  part  of  the  consti- 
tution of  our  human  nature.  It  is  assumed  as 
real  for  man  in  the  great  appeal,  "  Seek  the 
things  that  are  above."  It  is  the  great  basal 
assumption  of  all  religion.  It  is  indeed  here 
that  Christianity  is  strongest.  It  reveals  the 
heights  in  man's  soul,  and  it  calls  him  up  on  to 
the  heights.    It  fills  him  with  two  great  convio- 


THE   UPPER  BOOM  301 

tions :  first,  that  it  is  possible  for  him  to  become 
a  good  man ;  and,  second,  that  he  is  able  so  to 
govern  the  trials  of  his  existence  in  this  world  as 
to  make  them  issue  in  strength  and  richness  of 
heart.  Christianity  is  first  revelation  and  second 
deliverance.  The  revelation  becomes  deliverance. 
The  upper  room  is  shown,  and  then  begins  its 
endless  appeal. 

Christianity  as  revelation  is  to-day  accepted 
among  all  serious  minds.  It  is  the  best  account 
that  we  have  of  man  and  man's  interests.  It 
brings  into  view  more  of  man  and  more  of  the 
better  man  than  any  other  teaching.  As  the 
intellectual  valuation  of  human  existence,  Chris- 
tianity is  supreme  and  without  a  rival.  Our 
best  thinking  in  all  spheres  of  the  humanities 
is  but  the  new  adaptation  of  the  fundamental 
ideas  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus.  In  the  face  of 
the  entire  revolution  of  opinion  concerning  the 
Bible,  wrought  chiefly  by  historical  criticism,  it 
is  still  true  that  Christianity  as  revelation,  as 
the  final  account  of  man  and  man's  interests, 
has  won  the  serious  judgment  of  the  world. 

Where  is  the  deliverance?  Where  is  the  deliv- 
erance from  the  weakness  of  the  wiU,  from  the 
disease  of  the  intellect,  from  the  baseness  of  the 
heart?  We  seem  to  have  the  vision,  and  still 
we  are  without  the  power  !  And  we  ask  why  it 
is  that   the   revelation  which    at   once  became 


302  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

deliverance  in  the  days  of  Jesus  and  his  Apostles 
with  us  remains  revelation  and  nothing  more. 
We  believe,  we  entertain  the  vision,  and  we  are 
still  in  our  sins. 

What  is  the  source  of  this  woe  ?  Insincerity, 
that  deadliest  enemy  of  man,  secret,  subtle,  per- 
vasive insincerity.  Our  Christianity  lies  outside 
of  us,  like  food  on  the  table  which  we  see,  but 
which  we  have  not  yet  eaten.  Our  vision  is  of  a 
foreign  substance ;  we  are  playing  at  believing. 
We  build  ourselves  into  compartments ;  the  in- 
tellect is  one  compartment,  the  heart  is  another, 
the  will  yet  another.  We  open  the  intellect  to  the 
Christian  vision  ;  occasionally  we  expose  feeling 
to  the  Christian  appeal;  the  will  we  protect 
against  the  Christian  law,  we  reserve  it  for  the 
selfish  and  base  uses  of  life.  Here  is  our  trouble. 
We  let  the  light  into  the  front  room  of  our 
dwelling ;  we  bar  the  door  against  its  advance 
upon  the  bed  of  the  sleeper.  Light  opens  closed 
eyes ;  light  rushes  through  opened  eyes  in  upon 
the  brain,  rousing  into  action  every  organ  in  the 
body,  and  setting  the  man  upon  his  feet.  Unless 
it  is  checked,  Christianity  as  vision  becomes  inev- 
itably Christianity  as  action.  Unless  we  bar  its 
path,  Christianity  as  light  rushes  through  the 
intellect,  through  the  feelings,  on  into  the  will. 
Unless  we  divert  it,  Christianity  as  faith  issues 
in    Christianity  as    works.    If  we   believe,  and 


THE   UPPER   ROOM  303 

still  are  held  in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  in  the 
bond  of  iniquity,  we  may  be  sure  that  there  is 
in  us  some  deadly  insincerity.  It  is  this  that  is 
holding  us  down.  It  is  this  inward,  subtle  dis- 
honesty that  is  depriving  us  of  the  whole  mighty 
practical  blessing  of  the  gospel.  Deliverance  is 
the  last  and  greatest  aspect  of  our  faith,  the 
deliverance  of  them  that  are  bound.  Freedom 
is  the  deepest  cry  of  the  human  spirit,  freedom 
is  the  sovereign  blessedness  of  the  human  soul. 
"  Ye  shall  know  the  truth,  and  the  truth  shall 
make  you  free,"  but  there  must  be  no  compart- 
ments in  the  life  of  the  knower,  the  tide  of  truth 
from  the  Eternal  must  be  allowed  to  sweep  into 
the  inmost  recess  of  the  personal  will. 

I  have  said  that  the  upper  room  is  part  of  the 
constitution  of  human  nature.  It  is  sad  to  reflect 
that  in  multitudes  it  is  a  vacant  room.  There  is 
no  Christ  in  it,  no  inspiration,  no  sacred  sorrow, 
no  resurrection.  This  is  the  deepest  tragedy  in 
the  world,  that  the  highest  in  man  is  in  disuse. 
Where  is  that  vacant  guest-chamber  ?  The  Mas- 
ter desires  to  keep  the  Passover  there  in  your 
soul,  and  in  that  upper  room  of  your  nature 
reveal  the  sublimity  of  his  nature  and  love. 
There  he  desires  that  you  should  abide.  Live  on 
the  heights.  There  through  the  prayer,  and  the 
human  fellowship,  and  the  ineffable  commimion, 
wait  for  the  coming  of   the  great   inspiration. 


304  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

And  there  he  directs  that  you  should  carry  your 
dead.  Lay  them  in  your  highest  faith,  in  your 
loftiest  veneration  and  dearest  love.  Be  sure 
your  sorrow  will  then  become  a  heavenly  sorrow, 
and  your  dead  will  return  to  you  in  the  power 
of  an  endless  life. 


XVII 
GOD  THE   COMFORTER 

"  I  will  pray  the  Father,  and  he  shall  give  you  another  Comforter,  that 
he  may  be  with  you  for  ever." 

John  xiv,  16. 

Wonder  and  awe  are  among  the  earliest  re- 
sponses of  the  soul  to  the  appeal  of  the  Infinite ; 
they  remain  among  the  latest.  We  have  seen  in 
the  clear  and  happy  eyes  of  a  child  just  begin- 
ning to  note  here  and  there  some  great  feature 
of  our  strange  world,  the  sense  of  fascination 
and  mystery  as  it  looked  up  into  the  infinite 
spaces ;  and  we  have  seen  in  the  dim  and  sorrow- 
ful vision  of  age  the  image  of  the  same  feeling. 
The  thing  that  forever  fascinates  and  baffles, 
that  draws  us  on  to  inquire  into  it,  and  that 
covers  us  with  the  shadow  of  a  vast  dread,  is 
this  solemn,  beautiful,  mysterious  universe.  We 
wrestle  with  it  in  the  darkness,  we  call  to  it, 
"  Tell  me  thy  name ; "  the  morning  comes,  the 
mystery  with  which  we  have  wrestled  eludes  us, 
and  we  are  left  blessed,  it  may  be,  but  bruised. 
The  manna  in  the  wilderness  was  not  understood ; 
its  name  was  a  question.  What  is  it?  —  that 
was  the  cry  of  the  people  as  they  beheld  this 
desert  wonder.    They  could  not  account  for  it, 


306  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

it  remained  an  enigma  ;  therefore  they  named  it, 
What  is  it?  If  we  consult  our  sineerest  and 
deepest  thoughts  about  the  universe,  we  shall 
find  them  mainly  interrogations.  The  sum  of 
things  in  heaven  above  and  on  earth  beneath, 
other  than  man,  the  total  life  of  the  race  in  the 
present  and  in  the  past,  and  the  power  by  which 
this  wondrous  whole  is  pervaded,  we  call  the 
universe,  and  the  inmost  meaning  of  the  name 
is,  What  is  it  ?  Like  the  manna,  it  is  sweet  and 
it  supports  life ;  but  the  final  and  full  account 
of  it  we  are  unable  to  give.  The  first  act  of 
worship,  the  act  that  includes  all  serious  and 
noble  men,  is  the  worship  of  the  Inscrutable. 

This  mood,  however,  does  not  remain  unfruit- 
ful. Men  investigate  and  think ;  they  live  and 
reach  conclusions  ;  they  come  to  look  at  the  uni- 
verse in  a  great  variety  of  ways.  To  one  man  it 
seems  at  heart  matter ;  all  thought,  aU  feeling, 
and  aU  character  are  incidental ;  the  substance 
of  the  universe  is  physical,  it  is  an  ever  changing 
physical  show,  with  here  and  there  a  strain  of 
thought  and  feeling,  like  the  band  that  now 
and  then  plays  in  the  grim  hour  of  battle.  To 
another  it  is  force ;  to  still  another  law ;  to  yet 
another  fate.  The  force  is  there,  its  ways  are 
fixed,  and  it  is  operated  by  a  necessity  blind, 
dumb,  eternal. 

In  contrast  with  aU  this,  in  the  text  the  uni- 


GOD   THE  COMFORTER  307 

verse  is  said  to  be,  at  its  heart,  mind ;  it  is 
assumed  to  be  personal,  it  is  named  the  Com- 
forter. This  is  the  Christian  way  of  looking  at 
the  universe. 

1.  First  of  all  there  is  the  audacity  of  this 
interpretation.  In  the  face  of  all  disorder,  all 
silence,  all  apparent  indifference  to  man,  all 
pain,  all  loss,  all  death,  the  universe  is  gathered 
into  the  Infinite  Comforter !  Could  there  be  a 
more  audacious  conception  than  that  ?  Is  it  not 
as  if  one  were  to  look  for  pity  from  the  tempest, 
or  sympathy  from  the  cold  and  speechless  stars  ? 
Is  it  not  as  if  one  should  regard  the  wild  and 
angry  sea  as  a  friend,  and  the  more  of  a  friend 
the  wilder  and  the  angrier  it  is  ?  Is  not  the  uni- 
verse essentially  hostile  ?  Its  boundlessness,  its 
mystery,  its  silence,  and  its  settled  disdain,  are 
these  the  tokens  of  its  regard  ?  When  men  hunt 
the  wild  beast,  or  go  among  savage  tribes,  or  ven- 
ture among  unfriendly  forces,  they  go  armed ; 
they  do  not  expect  mercy  from  a  tiger,  sympathy 
from  a  Hottentot,  consideration  from  a  cannibal. 
When  the  California  gold  was  first  carried  from 
the  mines,  the  bearer  was  preceded  and  followed 
by  a  soldier,  riflie  in  hand ;  the  environment 
was  hostile,  the  guarded  treasure  alone  was  safe. 
Should  we  not  imitate  this  procedure  ?  Should 
we  not  fortify  ourselves  against  our  enemies ; 
build  towers  like  that  of  the  men  of  Babel,  only 


308  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

stronger ;  proceed  on  the  supposition  that  our 
human  treasure  is  under  constant  menace,  that 
the  eye  of  an  infinite  robber  is  upon  us,  and 
that  there  is  no  security  except  in  the  vigilant 
and  militant  arm? 

Look  at  the  situation.  We  are  born  in  ut- 
most frailty.  If  left  to  the  tender  mercy  of  the 
woods,  the  winds,  the  seasons,  the  wild  beasts, 
if  abandoned  to  the  sympathy  of  nature,  we 
should  perish  in  a  day.  The  homes  into  which 
we  were  born  were  built  to  shield  us  from  the 
angry  cosmos ;  clothing  is  prepared  for  us  as 
a  further  protection.  Our  liability  to  sickness 
means  that  our  frail  life  is  beset  with  countless 
enemies.  The  climate  is  too  severe,  or  the  air  is 
foul  with  the  germs  of  disease,  or  the  water  that 
we  drink  holds  death  in  solution,  or  the  foods 
that  we  eat  conceal  the  life  that  means  pain  to 
us  and  perhaps  destruction.  What  is  civiliza- 
tion but  the  strenuous,  eonian  effort  to  overcome 
the  hostility  of  nature,  to  mitigate  her  antago- 
nism, to  crowd  her  back  from  our  properly  hu- 
man domain,  to  pile  up  the  instruments  and  the 
material  resources  whereby  we  can  reduce  her 
power  to  work  us  harm,  whereby  we  can  repair 
the  unpreventable  injuries  which  she  inflicts 
upon  man!  What  is  civilization  but  the  glori- 
ous record  of  man's  victory  over  the  unrelent- 
ing enmity  of  the  cosmos  I    What  is  our  whole 


GOD   THE  COMFORTER  309 

achievement  inside  the  bounds  of  nature  but  the 
confession  that  nature  is  never  enough,  that  she 
is  never  wholly  to  be  trusted,  that  we  can  never 
safely  meet  her  except  with  our  harness  on  our 
backs !  The  Hollander  has  rescued  his  country 
from  the  sea  ;  he  holds  it  in  defiance  of  the  sea, 
and  the  thunder  of  its  tides  against  the  walls 
that  he  has  built  reminds  him  that  his  enemy  is 
still  close  at  hand,  and  wild  with  greed  to  invade 
and  recover.  Such  seems  our  human  world,  a 
domain  snatched  from  infinite  hostility,  held  by 
high  device  and  amazing  stratagem  against  the 
never  ceasing  attack  of  the  cosmos,  a  world  of 
justice  and  love  encircled  by  a  boundless  waste 
of  wild,  implacable  enmity.  While  the  race 
holds  this  domain  in  defiance  of  the  cosmos,  the 
individual  loses ;  generations  of  individuals  per- 
ish, and  the  end  would  seem  to  be  the  defeat 
not  of  the  cosmos,  but  of  man.  Even  Gibraltar 
could  not  stand  out  forever ;  even  that  fortress 
could  be  starved  into  surrender.  Is  not  our 
human  world  a  sort  of  mighty  fortress  under 
siege  at  the  hands  of  the  universe  ?  We  are 
many,  we  have  learned  the  methods  of  cosmical 
attack,  we  are  well  provisioned  and  at  present 
comparatively  secure ;  but  what  hope  is  there 
in  the  endless  contest  that  we  shall  be  victo- 
rious ?  Is  not  our  enemy  too  much  for  us  ?  In 
view  of  all  this,  is  it  not  an  audacious  thing 


310  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

to  regard  the  universe  as  at  heart  the  Infinite 
comfort  ? 

In  reply  to  this  it  should  be  said  that  there  is 
nature  and  there  is  human  nature.  And  the  uni- 
verse that  is  revealed  in  nature  as  against  us  is 
revealed  in  human  nature  as  on  our  side.  God  is 
against  us,  in  part  at  least,  in  nature ;  He  is  for 
us,  in  part  at  least,  in  human  nature.  It  is  He 
who  has  taught  our  hands  to  war  in  our  campaign 
against  nature  ;  it  is  from  Him  that  the  spirit 
of  insight,  discovery,  use,  and  power  has  come. 
And  this  outward  antagonism  may  be  but  inspi- 
ration to  the  inward  friendliness;  even  as  the 
eagle,  whose  eagle  nature  is  in  her  brood,  stirs  up 
the  nest  under  them,  breaks  it  to  pieces,  that  the 
royal  spirit  in  them  may  leave  the  earth  for  the 
sky.  The  Infinite  is  in  the  pure  air,  the  favoring 
seasons,  the  fruitful  earth,  the  amenableness  of 
nature  to  cultivation,  the  elasticity  with  which  it 
may  be  turned  to  human  uses ;  the  Infinite  is  in 
the  biting  wind,  the  wild  sea,  the  malarial  swamp, 
the  polluted  well,  the  germs  of  disease,  the  black 
wings  of  death  as  they  beat  about  us,  to  rouse, 
to  educate,  to  force  man  back  upon  himself,  to 
compel  him  to  seek  the  society  of  his  kind,  to 
drive  him  in  upon  the  resources  of  the  soul ;  and 
the  Infinite  is  in  man  in  his  expansive  and  mar- 
velous intelligence,  in  his  capacities  for  love  and 
sympathy,  in  his  conscience  and  its  law  of  right- 


GOD   THE  COMFOBTER  811 

eousness,  in  his  will  and  its  power  to  subdue  the 
wild  cosmos,  in  its  power  to  incarnate  in  human 
society  the  vision  of  the  City  of  God.  God  in 
nature  is  both  against  us  and  for  us ;  God  in 
man  is  both  against  us  and  for  us  ;  and  the  vast, 
ceaseless  antipathy  is  in  the  interest  of  the  still 
vaster  and  sublimer  sympathy.  It  is  therefore  a 
reasonable  audacity  that  claims  the  universe  as 
the  Comforter  of  man. 

2.  In  this  conception  of  the  universe  as  at  heart 
a  universe  of  comfort  lies  much  of  the  power  of 
Christianity.  Christianity  is  indeed  the  religion 
of  the  morally  victorious  soul;  it  is  in  an  em- 
phatic sense  the  religion  of  righteousness.  It  calls 
for  the  new  heaven  and  the  new  earth ;  it  gives 
the  vision  of  the  righteous  God,  and  it  lays  upon 
those  who  entertain  this  vision  the  obligation 
to  reform  human  society.  The  call  to  serve,  to 
achieve,  is  the  trumpet  call  of  the  gospel.  Chris- 
tianity has  the  utmost  fascination  for  the  morally 
capable,  for  all  those  who  are  conscious  of  achiev- 
ing power,  who  exult  in  the  sense  of  a  sound  and 
an  aspiring  humanity,  whose  reforming  instinct 
rises  to  passion,  and  who  delight  in  life  because 
it  holds  within  itself  the  energy  that  would  re- 
new the  world. 

We  must  never  forget  that  religion  has  always 
begun  here.  The  religion  of  Moses  was  a  religion 
of  righteousness.    Here  was  his  race  in  bondage, 


312  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

that  bondage  was  an  outrage  upon  their  human- 
ity, an  injustice  that  cried  to  heaven.  The  reli- 
gion of  Moses  began  in  the  vision  of  the  righteous 
God  and  in  the  passion  for  reform  under  that 
vision.  Amos,  Isaiah,  Jeremiah,  every  great 
soul  in  the  history  of  Israel,  followed  in  the 
footsteps  of  Moses.  John  the  Baptist,  when  he 
came,  repeated  the  same  sublime  experience ;  re- 
ligion was  the  vision  of  the  righteous  God,  and 
the  obligation  under  that  vision  to  renew  the 
world.  Christianity  is  here  only  another  and 
a  vaster  version  of  the  same  thing  ;  its  initial 
words  are :  "  Seek  first  God's  kingdom  and  his 
righteousness."  The  sublimity  of  its  vision  of 
God  made  obsolete  the  earlier  visions  ;  it  fasci- 
nated the  elect  youth  of  the  time  of  Jesus ;  it 
fascinated  Stephen  and  Paul ;  it  has  exercised 
a  resistless  charm  over  the  highest  spirits  in 
every  succeeding  generation.  Christianity  is  first 
of  all  an  appeal  to  the  morally  fit. 

It  is  more.  It  is  an  appeal  to  the  morally 
unfit.  It  is  the  religion  of  reconciliation.  It  finds 
man  with  a  vision  of  the  better  life  and  with  an 
incapacity  for  obedience.  It  finds  him  like  the 
eaglet,  with  eyes  for  the  free  heaven,  but  with 
no  wings  to  lift  it  thither ;  it  finds  him  like 
the  paralytic,  with  the  vision  of  the  ideal,  but 
without  the  power  of  attainment.  Here  it  revolu- 
tionized the  life  of  Paul;  it  gave  him  a  sublimer 


GOD   THE  COMFORTER  813 

vision,  and  it  gave  him  a  power  of  achievement 
wholly  new.  And  from  that  day  to  this  Chris- 
tianity has  gone  on  its  way  imparting  vision  to 
the  blind,  and  creating  power  in  the  heart  of 
moral  paralysis  and  despair.  The  spring  comes 
and  the  frozen  earth  is  free ;  the  spring  comes 
and  the  meadow,  ugly  with  its  burden  of  dead 
grass,  blooms  again ;  the  spring  is  here  and 
every  blackened  tree  with  its  leafless  boughs  is 
covered  with  life  and  beauty ;  the  spring  is  here 
and  the  face  of  the  world  is  lifted  into  accord 
with  the  vision  of  loveliness.  So  Christianity 
works.  It  goes  like  a  great  tide  of  life  ;  it  re- 
news the  fountains  of  human  nature,  opens  the 
springs  of  moral  power  in  man's  heart,  puts  crea- 
tive might  in  the  soul,  moves  a  despairing  human- 
ity into  song.    It  is  the  religion  of  reconciliation. 

It  is  more.  It  is  the  religion  of  comfort.  There 
is  surely  comfort  in  the  vision  of  the  righteous 
God  and  the  passion  for  reform  set  free  in  human 
hearts  under  that  vision.  There  is  indeed  comfort 
in  the  wonderful  experience  whereby  despairing 
men  are  made  capable  of  the  noblest  life,  whereby 
the  sinful  and  erring  are  filled  with  moral  hope 
and  charged  with  moral  power.  Christianity  as 
the  religion  of  comfort  does  not  exhaust  itself 
in  these  great  inspirations.  Man  has  needs  as  a 
suffering  being,  as  a  lover  and  as  a  loser. 

One  of  the  profoundest  of  all  human  necessi- 


314  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

ties  concerns  the  treasure  of  the  loving  heart. 
The  fortunate  human  being  has  made  a  vast 
investment  of  himself  in  other  human  beings  ; 
he  is  a  lover,  it  may  be  an  intense,  a  devoted, 
and  a  grateful  lover.  The  treasure  of  life  is 
not  money,  it  is  not  fame,  it  is  not  power,  it 
is  love ;  and  whether  it  is  the  child's  life  in  the 
life  of  its  parents,  or  the  life  of  the  parents  in 
the  life  of  their  children,  the  consciousness  of  a 
divine  possession  under  fearful  menace  is  at 
times  the  acutest  of  all  pains.  The  call  of  the 
heart  is  for  protection.  The  need  of  the  heart  is 
protection.  Can  you  trust  your  child  to  wander 
unprotected  in  the  jungle?  Can  you  live  with 
the  sense  of  the  dear  lives  in  whom  you  have 
invested  your  soul  under  a  menace  unmitigated, 
a  peril  between  which  and  them  there  is  no 
shield  ?  Can  you  live  in  peace  without  the  con- 
sciousness that  the  Giver  of  life  is  the  Protector 
of  it,  without  the  faith  that  the  heart's  greatest 
interests  are  God's  greatest  interests,  without 
the  assurance  that  all  things  work  together  for 
good  to  them  that  love  God? 

Christianity  comes,  then,  with  its  message  of 
comfort  to  man  the  lover ;  it  assures  him  that 
what  is  dear  to  him  is  infinitely  dear  to  God. 
The  father  whom  you  revere,  the  mother  whom 
you  honor,  the  child  to  whom  the  whole  tender- 
ness of  your  soul  goes  out,  the  friend  whom  you 


GOD   THE   COMFORTER  315 

count  part  of  yourself,  the  many  noble  fellow  ser- 
vants in  whom  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  make 
a  permanent  investment  of  affection,  —  for  all 
these  there  is  a  cover  in  the  Eternal  Lover,  for 
all  these  there  is  a  refuge  in  the  Eternal  Friend. 
How  beautiful  is  that  Old  Testament  concep- 
tion of  the  City  of  Refuge !  Thither  in  their 
error  and  misfortune  and  weakness  men  could 
fly  ;  once  there,  they  were  safe  from  the  pursuer. 
According  to  Christian  faith,  such  a  city  of 
refuge  is  our  God.  Thither  in  all  ages  loving 
souls  have  gone ;  inside  its  golden  gates  they 
have  laid  the  precious  burden  of  their  hearts. 
Thither  the  young  have  gone  in  moments  of 
extreme  anxiety,  weeping  and  wondering  whether 
the  horror  was  to  be  theirs  of  the  untimely  loss 
of  father  and  mother,  and  there  they  have 
found  rest.  Fathers  and  mothers  looking  upon 
their  children  in  health  and  readmg  the  record 
of  the  daily  work  of  death,  looking  upon  their 
children  in  sickness  and  watching  the  curtain 
trembling  between  them  and  the  unseen,  have 
gone  up  into  that  city  of  comfort  and  there  have 
entered  into  the  infinite  peace.  When  households 
have  been  sundered  by  the  cruel  hand  of  fate, 
when  brothers  and  sisters  have  been  driven  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  the  old  mother,  left  to 
think  of  her  brood  wide  apart  as  east  and  west, 
has   gone  for  comfort   to  the  infinite  sheltering 


316  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

presence  of  God.    In  the  shadow  of  his  wings 
there  is  jjeace. 

Christianity  is  first  of  all  the  religion  of  lovers. 
It  is  the  religion  for  those  who  feel  the  precious- 
ness  of  existence  ;  it  has  been  to  all  who  love  an 
infinite  comfort.  It  was  so  while  Jesus  lived.  He 
early  made  his  religion  the  religion  of  home ;  he 
put  it  to  the  service  of  anxious  and  deep-hearted 
parents ;  he  poured  it  as  comfort  into  the  soids 
of  the  troubled  and  the  loving  men  and  women 
of  his  time.  What  he  did  for  those  whose  trea- 
sure was  love,  and  whose  love  was  under  menace, 
cannot  be  told.  It  was  a  service  immeasurable  in 
amount,  and  inconceivably  precious.  Since  Jesus 
lived,  parenthood  and  love  have  been  easier.  The 
life  of  the  lover,  if  there  be  no  infinite  comfort, 
is  of  all  lives  the  most  tragic.  The  most  awful 
of  all  relations  is  that  of  parent  in  a  universe 
without  love  and  sympathy.  In  a  universe  where 
this  is  not  clear,  where  it  is  not  sure,  where 
it  is  only  a  dim  guess,  a  pale  and  fitful  hope, 
surely  the  fate  of  the  lover  is  hard.  To  receive 
from  the  universe  the  supreme  gift,  the  gift  of 
a  great,  disinterested,  undying  love,  and  not  to 
be  able  to  believe  that  the  universe  has  for  the 
human  heart  thus  visited  any  sympathy,  any 
refuge,  must  appear  in  moments  of  vivid  feeling 
an  appalling  condition.  Could  there  be  for  the 
human  parent  a  worse  fate  than  that  pictured  in 


GOD   THE  COMFORTER  317 

Niobe !  That  story  of  the  mother  and  her  chil- 
dren in  a  universe  not  only  unsympathetic  but 
cruel,  is  to  me  the  most  awful  in  the  annals 
of  the  race.  Love  and  parenthood  in  such  a 
universe  are  the  supreme  calamity ;  there  is  no 
place  for  them,  they  are  too  good  for  the  brutal 
world.  Under  ideas  like  these  millions  of  our 
fellow  men  have  suffered ;  to  such  suffering  mil- 
lions the  gospel  of  the  eternal  comfort  came; 
the  family  life  of  Christendom  became  a  new 
thing,  parenthood  and  love  became  the  supreme 
human  privilege,  and  God  offered  himself  as 
the  city  of  refuge  for  all  anxious,  loving  soiils. 

Man  is  not  only  a  lover ;  he  is  also  a  loser. 
Death  comes,  and  the  souls  that  are  as  parts 
of  one  organism  are  torn  asunder.  Death  is  the 
great  desolator.  It  is  still  the  king  of  terrors, 
the  supreme  horror  of  all  who  love.  Its  ravages 
cannot  be  averted.  Men  are  born  to  love,  and 
they  are  born  to  die.  In  this  order  of  birth 
and  love  and  death  and  loss  the  generations  of 
men  move.  What  comes  but  hopeless  grief, 
absolute  despair,  when  this  order  is  unillumined 
out  of  the  Eternal?  What  religion  is  possible 
other  than  the  religion  of  pity  in  the  presence  of 
the  infinite  tragedy  in  human  history  ?  If  the 
sentence,  "  Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust  shalt 
thou  return,"  covers  the  whole  man,  what  can 
virtue  do  with  the  life  of  a  worm  or  a  fly  ?  If  men 


318  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

in  their  grief  count  for  nothing  to  the  Eternal, 
existence  is  misery,  the  supreme  calamity  is  to 
be  born,  the  supreme  sin  is  parenthood.  If  this 
life  is  all,  it  is  not  worth  having ;  it  is  a  calam- 
ity to  all  who  love  while  they  live.  If  this  life  is 
all,  those  who  continue  the  succession  of  births 
are  the  most  reckless  and  heartless  among  human 
beings.  How  can  they  be  unmindful  of  the  ten- 
der hearts  of  those  whom  they  bring  into  being ! 
How  can  they  live  regardless  of  the  woe  to  which 
they  introduce  helpless  souls ! 

Christianity  comes  to  the  lover  who  is  a  loser 
with  its  vision  of  the  Infinite  Father  and  his 
house  of  many  mansions.  Thither  go  the  dear 
dead  fathers  and  mothers  ;  thither  go  the  youth 
slain  in  the  service  of  the  race,  run  down  by  the 
awful  car  of  human  civilization ;  and  thither 
go  the  bands  of  little  children,  —  look  up  and 
see  them  dressed  not  in  swaddling-bands,  but  in 
singing-robes.  The  child  choir  in  heaven  is  the 
only  part  of  earth's  music  translated  from  this 
world  to  the  heavenly  that  even  the  angelic  songs 
cannot  match.  Look  up  and  listen.  That  is 
the  vision  that  sustains  the  bewildered  mind  of 
sorrowing  parenthood ;  that  is  the  music  that 
finally  makes  the  grief  of  fathers  and  mothers 
an  infinite  solace. 

Christianity  is  kept  in  the  world  by  the  re- 
former ;  it  is  kept  in  the  world  by  those  who 


GOD   THE  COMFORTER  319 

seek  escape  from  the  hell  of  their  sins  and  weak- 
nesses ;  but  more  than  all,  it  is  kept  in  the  world 
by  loving  men  and  women  who  know  that  life 
has  in  it  infinite  treasure,  and  among  these  the 
lovers  who  have  lost,  hold  with  the  strongest  hand 
the  gospel  of  the  Eternal  Comforter. 

3.  This  great  faith  is  offered  to  experience. 
It  submits  itself  to  the  process  of  proof  in  the 
course  of  experience.  We  are  called  upon  to 
put  to  the  test  this  conception  of  the  infinite 
comfort ;  we  are  to  test  it  nobly,  deeply,  to  the 
end,  in  the  whole  endeavor  of  existence ;  we  are 
to  accept  it  as  an  ideal  for  the  regulation  of 
existence  ;  we  are  to  receive  it  as  a  faith  to  be 
verified  in  the  history  of  the  soul,  in  the  history 
of  all  believing  souls. 

We  believe  that  we  may  know ;  that  is  the 
fundamental  mood  of  the  intelligent  disciple  of 
Christ.  It  was  not  at  the  beginning,  it  was  at 
the  end  of  his  career  that  Paid  said, "I  know 
him  whom  I  have  believed."  His  life  had  begun 
with  the  acceptance  of  a  vast  and  precious  faith  ; 
his  whole  career  had  been  a  process  of  experi- 
mentation, whereby  what  he  received  as  faith 
had  been  verified  in  experience  as  the  truth. 
He  began  with  the  belief,  he  subjected  his  life 
to  his  belief,  his  life  thus  subjected  took  on  new 
strength  and  broke  like  the  morning  into  joy ;  he 
ended  with  the  belief  verified,  turned  into  know- 


320  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

ledge.  The  method  of  the  Apostle  is  the  method 
of  all  sound  science.  Science  begins  with  belief  ; 
the  great  process  of  observation  and  experiment 
eliminates  false  belief,  purifies  and  expands 
sound  belief,  and  turns  it  at  last  into  clear  and 
accurate  knowledge.  If  the  attitude  of  the  scien- 
tist is  sound,  the  attitude  of  the  disciple  of  Christ 
is  sound.  He  accepts  as  faith  the  idea  of  the  in- 
finite comfort,  he  gives  it  a  chance  to  verify  its 
truth  in  the  process  of  human  endeavor  and 
suffering ;  if  it  stands  the  test  of  life,  it  is  true. 
It  is  impossible  to  imagine  any  other  path  to 
certainty.  No  one  can  tell  in  advance  whether 
or  not  food  of  a  certain  kind  will  be  found  whole- 
some in  an  individual  case ;  to  settle  that,  we 
must  eat  and  drink.  We  use  the  experience  of 
our  parents,  the  advice  of  our  friends,  the  general 
wisdom  of  the  ages  about  human  foods  ;  but  the 
wholesomeness  of  a  particular  food  for  a  particu- 
lar person  is  not  j)roved  until  it  is  eaten.  A  sur- 
geon cannot  say  in  advance  that  a  critical  operar 
tion  will  surely  be  successful ;  he  may  think  it 
likely,  extremely  likely,  almost  certain,  but  the 
result  alone  can  banish  aU  doubt.  The  wisest 
lawyer  in  the  land  cannot  be  sure  of  winning  his 
case ;  he  may  believe  that  all  law  is  on  his  side, 
that  all  justice  is  there ;  he  may  be  confident 
and  full  of  hope,  but  until  the  judge  has  delivered 
his  opinion,  he  cannot  know.    The  captain  of  a 


GOD   THE  COMFOBTEB  321 

great  steamer  is  never  sure  when  he  leaves 
one  port  that  he  will  reach  another.  He  knows 
his  ship ;  he  knows  the  sea.  The  ship  is  not 
new ;  she  has  weathered  under  his  command  the 
gales  of  many  winters,  but  this  voyage  may  prove 
her  last.  The  captain  does  not  believe  so  ;  he 
believes  that  she  wiU  trace  again  her  victorious 
path  from  shore  to  shore.  In  that  faith  he  goes 
forth.  The  faith  is  so  strong  that  head  winds 
do  not  disturb  him,  thick  fogs  do  not  discour- 
age him,  seas  beating  upon  him  with  the  force  of 
hurricanes  in  them  do  not  bring  dismay.  He  is 
a  confident  and  a  brave  man ;  his  ship  is  good, 
and  he  believes  that  he  can  weather  the  roughest 
gale  that  ever  wind  did  blow.  We  admire  his 
faith,  but  we  see  clearly  that  he  cannot  know. 

When  the  revolutionists  founded  this  country 
on  the  principle  of  equality  and  brotherhood  in 
citizenship,  they  believed  that  the  nation  they 
founded  would  endure ;  they  believed  that  the 
minds  and  hearts  of  the  colonists  were  prepared 
for  it,  that  there  was  in  them  a  race  fitness  for 
self-government,  that  the  conception  of  a  vast 
democracy  would  more  and  more  command  their 
intelligence,  root  itself  in  their  affections,  sup- 
port itself  out  of  the  resourceful  will  of  the 
great  body  of  free  men.  So  far,  time  has  proved 
that  they  were  right  in  their  faith.  But  in  ad- 
vance of  the  test  of  time,  proof  is  impossible. 


322  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

Jesus  said,  "  Heaven  and  earth-shall  pass  away, 
but  my  word  shall  not  pass  away."  What  proof 
could  there  be  of  that  statement  ?  Doubtless  he 
saw  into  the  souls  of  men  ;  doubtless  he  knew 
the  supreme  harmony  that  exists  between  his 
gospel  and  the  best  in  man ;  but  the  vision  of  a 
divine  adjustment  between  his  gospel  and  the 
human  heart  is  not  proof  that  his  kingdom  or 
his  word  shall  last  forever.  It  has  lasted  ;  it  is 
likely  to  last ;  it  is  nearly  sure  to  last ;  all  this 
we  may  say,  but  that  it  shall  certainly  last  is  a 
proposition  that  cannot  be  proved.  Time  alone 
can  determine. 

No  one  can  say  with  certainty  what  books 
produced  in  our  generation  will  find  readers  in 
the  next.  The  classic  is  known  to  after-genera- 
tions ;  it  is  never  known  to  the  generation  that 
witnessed  its  production.  One  might  as  easily 
say  who,  if  any,  among  a  million  children  are 
born  to  fame,  as  to  tell  which,  if  any,  among  a 
million  books  are  destined  to  live.  No  one  can 
say  what  the  absorbing  interests  of  the  next 
generation  will  be,  or  what  will  be  its  literary 
tastes,  its  scientific  attitude,  its  philosophical 
mood,  its  political  ideals,  or  in  what  paths  its 
highest  energies  shall  move.  These  are  things 
about  which  we  may  have  beliefs,  and  the  be- 
liefs may  have  in  their  favor  very  high  likeli- 
hood ;  but  certainty  is  impossible  until  the  next 


GOD   THE  COMFORTER  323 

generation  shall  arrive.  In  his  farewell  words 
to  his  judges  Socrates  says :  "  The  hour  has 
come  to  go  away,  I  to  death  and  you  to  life ; 
but  which  of  us  shall  fare  the  better  is  hid  from 
all  save  God."  That  covers  the  entire  life  of 
man ;  in  advance  of  the  fact  we  cannot  know ; 
we  believe,  and  we  wait  for  the  verification  of 
belief. 

Our  hearts  are  in  our  keeping,  but  what  the 
universe  has  appointed  us,  we  do  not  know  until 
our  years  are  fully  told.  The  Greek  conception  of 
Destiny  is  an  abiding  conception  ;  we  know  our 
destiny  when  we  have  reached  it.  The  threads 
of  existence  are  spun,  the  web  of  reality  is  woven 
by  hands  other  than  ours  ;  what  is  ordained  we 
learn  through  the  courses  of  life.  The  silken 
threads,  and  the  bold  and  beautiful  devices  of 
those  that  spin  and  those  that  weave,  the  fine- 
ness and  the  splendor  of  the  great  fabric  of 
being,  are  known  alone  to  the  eyes  that  look 
upon  them  out  of  the  courses  of  a  great  Chris- 
tian experience.  With  our  eyes  upon  the  ever- 
coming  thread,  the  ever-flying  and  ever-weaving 
shuttle,  we  may  have  the  best  of  reasons  for 
hope,  but  we  cannot  know  what  the  completed 
design  will  be. 

What  does  all  this  mean  ?  That  the  proof  to 
which  our  religion  of  comfort  is  open  is  the  only 
kind  of  proof  obtainable  upon  any  subject  wl.at- 


324  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

soever.  It  all  comes  up  out  of  the  achieving  and 
suffering  life  of  man.  A  Hebrew  psalmist  sings  : 
"  Oh,  how  love  1  thy  law !  "  In  the  wildness  of 
youth  if  some  one  had  told  him  that  in  the  hap- 
piest life  love  and  law  were  one,  he  would  have 
regarded  the  remark  as  incredible.  Law  is  com- 
pulsion, love  is  freedom ;  how  can  these  unite  ? 
There  is  no  logic  by  which  the  union  can  be 
made  clear;  but  life,  the  courses  of  experience, 
the  hours  of  bitterness  and  of  hope,  the  whole 
sweep  and  discipline  of  existence,  issue  in  this 
fair  conclusion  that  love  and  law  are  one  in  the 
supremely  happy  soul.  Another  Hebrew  psalm- 
ist sings :  "  Thy  statutes  have  been  my  songs 
in  the  house  of  my  pilgrimage."  Possibly  in  his 
early  and  reckless  years  that  statement  would 
have  seemed  to  him  foolishness.  Those  musty 
old  rules  about  behavior,  those  maxims  for  the 
regidation  of  thought  and  feeling  and  conduct, 
with  the  mildew  of  centuries  upon  them,  those 
words  that  seem  but  the  jargon  of  persons  who 
have  outlived  their  zest  for  nature  and  the  spon- 
taneous life  of  man  among  his  kind,  how  can 
they  become  songs  ?  Can  you  make  poetry  out 
of  modern  statutes?  Can  you  make  diamonds 
out  of  dust-heaps?  Can  you  lift  into  the  realm 
of  art  the  vulgar  life  of  vulgar  men  ?  Can  you 
transmute  into  songs  the  severe  compulsions  of 
the  moral  law  ?     Experience  alone  can  answer 


GOD   THE  COMFORTER  325 

that  question.  Experience  does  answer  it.  Moral 
law  through  the  experience  of  the  dutiful  soul 
becomes  the  subliraest  of  all  human  songs,  the 
profoundest  of  all  human  inspirations.  Hear 
Wordsworth :  — 

"Stern  Lawgiver  !  yet  thou  dost  wear 
The  Godhead's  most  benignant  grace; 
Nor  know  we  anything  so  fair 
As  is  the  smile  upon  thy  face: 
Flowers  laugh  before  thee  on  their  beds 
And  fragrance  in  thy  footing  treads; 
Thou  dost  preserve  the  stars  from  wrong; 
And  the  most  ancient  heavens,  through  Thee,  are 
fresh  and  strong." 

Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth? 
That  was  the  question  of  Nathaniel  when  Philip 
said  to  him,  "  We  have  found  the  Christ."  That 
question  any  sincere  man  may  put  concerning 
all  high  beliefs  about  the  universe.  The  uni- 
verse often  seems  like  an  inj&nite  Nazareth;  it 
is  boundless  but  mean.  It  seems  sterile  as  the 
desert,  and  men  have  suffered  so  much  under  the 
sun  that  they  have  become  profoundly  skepti- 
cal, profoundly  unbelieving.  Can  any  good  thing 
come  out  of  this  vast,  hollow,  empty,  mocking 
universe?  The  reply  is  the  reply  of  Philip  to 
Nathaniel,  "Come  and  see."  Come  with  honest 
eyes  to  the  great  thought  of  the  universe  as  the 
eternal  comfort,  come  and  do  its  bidding  as  it 
speaks  to  you  in  the  teaching,  in  the  example. 


326  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

and  in  the  spirit  of  Jesus ;  take  his  yoke  upon 
you,  learn  of  him,  become  his  disciple,  walk  in 
the  paths  of  his  service,  submit  to  the  high 
moral  discipMne  to  which  he  submitted,  accept 
his  thought  of  the  eternal  comfort  as  your  faith, 
live  under  it,  live  by  it,  give  it  a  fair  chance  to 
prove  its  truth,  open  your  heart  to  the  highest 
of  all  human  conceptions.  It  may  be  that  it  will 
prove  itself  the  eternal  truth.  Come  and  see. 
Accept  as  faith  the  eternal  comfort ;  work  as  a 
great-hearted  servant ;  suffer  as  a  believer,  and 
open  all  the  windows  of  your  being  to  the  eter- 
nal sympathy.  It  may  be  that  in  life  and  in 
death  you  will  discover  that  you  are  the  Lord's. 
The  universe  is  great,  life  is  deep,  and  things 
are  not  what  they  seem.  The  universe  is  great, 
and  hiding  in  its  heart  of  mystery,  waiting  there 
for  the  fitting  human  mood,  stands  the  eternal 
comfort.  Life  is  deep.  I  sometimes  think  that 
as  the  sea  in  its  unfathomed  depth  is  to  that 
which  the  greatest  ship  touches  and  cleaves,  so 
is  the  abyss  of  the  himian  heart  to  the  mightiest 
understanding.  The  understanding  at  its  pro- 
foundest  is  shallow  compared  with  the  unsounded 
depths  of  the  moral  nature  of  man.  When  this 
mysterious  human  soul  becomes  a  servant  of 
moral  ends,  when  it  walks  in  reverence  and  holds 
itself  for  the  coming  of  the  kingdom  of  love  and 
as  the  refuge  of  weakness  and  distress,  its  own 


GOD   THE  COMFORTER  327 

nature  begins  to  reveal  its  grandeur  as  the  struc- 
ture of  the  earth  rose  when  the  flood  began  to 
abate.  Then  man  becomes  aware  of  the  range 
and  mystery  of  his  being,  of  the  laws  and  forces 
that  live  and  work  within  him,  of  the  moral  will 
of  God  articulated  in  the  order  of  his  spirit. 
Then  the  heart  is  filled  with  awe  under  the  sense 
of  the  infinite  benignity  that  now  and  then  blows 
through  it,  sometimes  in  the  soft  winds  and  again 
in  the  strong  gales  of  high  delight.  Then  the 
human  heart  becomes  a  great  musical  instrument, 
on  which  at  times  are  played  all  sweet  melodies, 
all  heroic  strains,  through  which  is  given  the 
mystic  sense  of  the  eternal  harmony  at  the  heart 
of  God.  In  the  pilgrimage  of  duty  the  heart 
breaks  into  song ;  a  dutiful  and  tender  human- 
ity becomes  inevitably  a  singing  humanity.  Woe 
leaves  the  faithful  soul  on  the  wings  of  glad- 
ness ;  weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy 
Cometh  in  the  morning.  When  the  heart  is  thus 
sustained  at  its  task,  comforted  in  its  sorrow, 
and  drawn  out  in  song,  men  find  it  easy  to  believe 
in  the  Eternal  consoler.  In  the  suffering  and 
serving  life  of  good  men  there  are  moments 
when  the  highest  faith  receives  complete  attesta- 
tion. So  it  was  with  Moses  on  Horeb  ;  Isaiah 
in  the  Temple  ;  Paul  on  his  way  to  Damascus  ; 
John  in  Patmos.  So  it  has  been  with  all  the  true 
and  the  brave. 


328  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

The  great  moments  of  life  are  few  and  brief, 
yet  by  these  we  are  to  believe  and  serve.  If  the 
fortunate  mariner  were  to  count  the  bright  days, 
clear  from  morning  to  night,  which  have  come 
to  him  in  his  service  upon  the  deep,  he  would 
find  them  few  compared  with  those  that  are  dark 
and  troubled.  He  thinks  himself  happy  if  no 
day  pass  without  some  bright  moment  at  noon 
or  at  sunset.  That  is  enough  ;  that  one  moment, 
that  brief  glance,  is  worth  all  the  rest  of  the 
day.  By  that  he  discovers  again  the  order  of 
the  world  and  finds  his  place  in  the  pathless  sea. 
Through  the  moments  of  insight,  of  inward  tri- 
umph, of  reconciliation  to  the  will  of  the  Highest, 
we  are  to  reach  the  character  of  the  universe,  we 
are  to  assure  our  hearts.  These  few  supreme  mo- 
ments are  of  more  worth  than  all  the  long,  unin- 
spired years.  Then  our  eyes  rest  on  the  infinite 
order  of  life,  on  the  infinite  sanctity  of  life,  on 
the  infinite  benignity  of  the  universe.  By  these 
sovereign  sunlit  moments  we  are  to  determine 
what  to  believe,  what  to  do,  what  to  expect ;  by 
them  we  are  to  verify  our  faith  in  the  eternal 
comfort,  and  hold  to  our  course  when  the  wild  sea 
is  again  blackening  under  the  frowning  heaven, 
home  to  the  waiting  heart  of  God. 


XVIII 
TOWARD  EVENING 

"  It  is  toward  evening,  and  the  day  ia  now  far  spent." 

Luke  xiiv,  29. 

What  a  great  day  that  had  been  !  The  morning 
had  found  them  in  the  heaviness  of  a  universal 
sorrow.  As  the  dreadful  hours  passed,  the  two 
disciples  roused  themselves  sufficiently  to  under- 
take the  walk  to  Emmaus.  They  went  slowly, 
for  there  was  solace  in  the  utterance  of  their  sad 
thoughts.  A  mysterious  stranger  joined  them  as 
they  journeyed  onward.  He  drew  from  them  the 
complete  confession  of  their  confusion  and  de- 
spair. He  made  their  hearts  burn  with  surprise 
and  hope  by  the  profoundly  beautiful  view  which 
he  took  of  the  cause  of  their  grief.  He  put  his 
new  and  unexpected  thought  about  the  death  of 
Jesus  into  their  minds,  to  the  absolute  exclusion 
of  their  own.  And  when  they  came  to  their  jour- 
ney's end,  it  seemed  to  them  that  they  had  been 
walking  in  a  divine  dream.  They  could  not 
allow  their  mysterious  fellow  traveler  to  go  un- 
invited to  their  home.  Something  inexpressibly 
great  had  taken  hold  of  them,  and  in  the  name 
of  that  they  constrained  the  wondrous  stranger, 


330  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

saying,  "  Abide  with  us  :  for  it  is  toward  evening, 
and  the  day  is  now  far  spent ;  and  he  went  in  to 
abide  with  them."  The  morning  heaviness,  the 
walk  and  the  human  relief,  the  divine  companion 
and  interpretation,  the  full  and  mighty  answer 
of  the  heart,  the  evening  with  the  risen  Christ 
standing  in  its  reddening  glow  and  peace,  —  such 
were  the  supreme  things  in  that  great  day.  And 
that  one  great  day  in  the  experience  of  those  two 
disciples  of  Christ  sets  a  type  for  all  the  disciples 
of  Christ.    As  was  the  day,  so  may  be  the  life. 

1.  The  morning  heaviness  was  the  first  thing. 
For  the  third  time  those  two  disciples  had  awak- 
ened to  a  world  that  had  no  Christ,  or  only  a 
dead  Christ,  in  it.  A  divine  presence  had  been 
taken  out  of  the  world.  The  loveliness  of  nature 
seemed  to  be  tarnished,  Jerusalem  had  become 
the  city  of  despair,  Israel  was  again  hopeless, 
love  and  friendship  were  bereaved  of  their  great 
consecration,  and  the  heart  of  the  individual  dis- 
ciple was  vacant  and  disconsolate.  Such  was  the 
tragedy  under  which  those  two  disciples  awak- 
ened on  the  morning  of  that  eventful  day. 

For  how  many  disciples  of  Christ  in  the  last 
century  that  is  typical  of  the  beginning  of  their 
spiritual  life !  How  many  have  come  to  man- 
hood in  the  fellowship  of  a  traditional  faith,  to 
discover  then  that  their  faith  was  dead !  Ro- 
manes through  the  influence  of  physical  science 


TOWARD  EVENING  331 

wakes  to  that  horror ;  John  Stirling  through 
inability  to  find  his  way  comes  to  that  heavi- 
ness ;  Tennyson  loses  everything  in  the  loss  of 
his  friend ;  Carlyle  looks  upon  a  godless  uni- 
verse under  the  power  of  a  false  philosophy. 
For  the  best  youth  of  the  nineteenth  century 
the  beginnings  of  spiritual  life  were  hard.  For 
thousands  of  young  men  and  women  in  the 
colleges  of  the  land  there  has  been  this  ter- 
rible awakening.  The  Lord's  Prayer  which  they 
learned  in  infancy,  the  Beatitudes  whose  music 
has  been  in  their  hearts  from  their  earliest 
years,  the  Divine  Christ  to  whom  they  have 
looked  in  awe  and  love,  the  Eternal  God,  their 
fathers'  God,  in  whom  they  have  steadfastly 
believed,  become  all  at  once  uncertain,  unreal, 
powerless.  They  awake  to  find  them  gone. 
There  is  no  room  for  prayer  in  their  world,  the 
Beatitudes  are  an  embarrassment  in  the  struggle 
for  existence ;  Christ  has  no  place  in  the  order 
of  the  universe;  and  in  the  mechanism  of  the 
sum  of  things  there  does  not  seem  to  be  any 
Heavenly  Father.  They  have  dreamed  the  ter- 
rible dream  of  Richter ;  they  awake  with  the 
awful  announcement  ringing  in  their  hearts : 
Children,  you  have  no  Father. 

This  is  the  trouble  with  many  of  our  young 
men  and  women.  Christianity  is  beautiful,  but 
it  does  not  answer  to  the  stern  realities  of  life. 


332  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

It  is  too  good  to  be  true ;  the  order  of  existence 
accords  with  no  such  dream.  For  those  two  dis- 
ciples, on  that  morning,  Christ  was  in  his  grave. 
For  many  young  persons,  terribly  in  earnest, 
Christianity  is  a  sublime  vision  at  war  with  the 
nature  of  things.  They  cannot  believe.  The 
faith  that  they  have  inherited  has  become  in- 
credible. They  do  not  boast  of  this  incapacity 
for  belief ;  the  nobler  among  them  mourn  over 
it.  Many  console  themselves  with  the  melan- 
choly conclusion :  — 

"  This  little  life  is  all  we  must  endure. 
The  grave's  most  holy  peace  is  ever  sure, 
We  fall  asleep  and  never  wake  again; 
Nothing  is  of  us  but  the  mouldering  flesh, 
Whose  elements  dissolve  and  merge  afresh 
As  earth,  air,  water,  plants  and  other  men." 

What  shall  we  say  to  these  things?  Let  us 
remember  that  these  suffering  souls  are  only  in 
the  first  stage  of  spiritual  life.  They  have  the 
sense,  as  never  before,  of  the  beauty  of  the  faith 
that  they  have  lost.  They  are  asking  questions 
that  endless  time  alone  can  fully  answer.  They 
are  planting  their  feet  upon  the  real  world. 
They  are  getting  ready  to  become  men.  Do  not 
grieve  over  them,  only  try  to  keep  them  pure. 
The  peril  of  the  loss  of  faith  is  that  it  so  often 
leads  to  the  loss  of  honor.  Goethe  has  drawn 
this  danger  in  Faust.    Faust  as  the  believer  in 


TOWARD  EVENING  333 

knowledge  is  pure ;  Faust  defeated  in  his  en- 
deavors to  compass  the  truth  turns  to  a  life  of 
shame.  There  is  here  the  revelation  of  a  law. 
The  loss  of  faith  tends  toward  the  loss  of  charac- 
ter. "  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we 
die."  Life's  high  significance  is  bound  up  with 
faith  ;  and  life's  high  significance  once  gone,  the 
tendency  is  downward.  Call  upon  the  young  to 
resist  that  tendency.  Remind  them  of  F.  W. 
Robertson's  fine  resolve.  In  the  blackest  hour 
of  doubt  he  saw  that  right  was  right,  that  honor 
was  honor,  and  to  that  he  bound  his  spirit.  The 
voice  of  despair  wild  with  mad  joy  still  cries :  — 

"  And  now  at  last  authentic  word  I  bring, 
Witnessed  by  every  dead  and  living  thing; 
Good  tidings  of  great  joy  for  you,  for  all : 
There  is  no  God." 

Many  noble  young  souls  are  saying  in  reply  to 
this  voice  that,  if  there  be  no  God  to  love  them, 
no  Christ  to  own  them,  no  eternal  righteousness 
to  crown  them,  they  will  so  live  that  the  beauty 
of  their  life  shall  be  a  nameless  rebuke  to  the 
brutal  universe  that  would  degrade  them  before 
destroying  them.  Only  keep  these  fine  souls 
from  following  in  the  footsteps  of  Faust,  only 
hold  them  in  the  mood  of  Robertson  of  Brighton, 
and  you  may  well  give  thanks  over  their  per- 
plexity and  pain. 

No  man  who  has  not  won  his  faith  through 


334  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

suffering  can  to-day  count  for  much.  He  cannot 
understand  our  time  ;  that  time  is  a  call  away 
from  mere  conventions  to  eternal  realities.  It 
insists  that  men  shall  live  in  the  strength  of 
things,  go  in  the  immediate  vision  of  them,  lean 
upon  them  without  intermediary  of  any  kind  — 
tradition,  creed,  miracle,  or  high  personal  au- 
thority —  for  support.  The  times  have  taken  our 
crutches  from  us  and  hidden  them.  If  we  walk, 
it  must  be  on  our  feet  and  by  our  own  strength. 
The  man  who  has  not  thus  been  thrown  back 
upon  the  Eternal  cannot  understand  the  deep 
need  of  the  time.  He  cannot  get  down  under  the 
trouble  of  the  generations.  Niagara  from  above 
and  Niagara  from  the  Cave  of  the  Winds  are 
different.  Look  at  the  cataract  from  above  and 
tremble;  look  at  it  from  beneath,  hear  its  inces- 
sant roar,  and  feel  under  your  feet  the  everlast- 
ing: rock.  Look  at  the  doubt  of  the  times  from 
above  only,  and  you  will  be  f idl  of  alarm ;  through 
the  heroism  of  your  own  soul  go  down  below  it, 
and,  while  your  feet  stand  upon  God,  listen  to 
the  tumult  and  the  thunder,  and  you  will  cry : 
"  I  wiU  fear  no  evil,  for  thou  art  with  me."  The 
true  teacher  of  youth  to-day  is  the  man  who  has 
been  in  an  abyss  below  theirs,  and  who  has  found 
under  the  cataract  of  doubt  and  despair  the  eter- 
nal ground  of  hope. 

2.  The  second  stage  in  the  day's  experience 


TOWARD  EVENING  335 

was  the  walk  and  the  human  reKef .  How  natui-al 
that  is !  These  disciples  pull  themselves  together, 
as  we  say,  and  start  for  Emmaus.  The  exercise 
sets  their  thoughts  free  ;  the  influence  of  nature 
breaks  mildly  in  upon  them;  past  associations 
open  up  the  fountains  of  their  mind ;  a  strange 
human  love  and  tenderness  toward  each  other 
comes  into  their  hearts.  They  talk,  and  the 
relief  thereupon  begins.  Full,  rich,  tender,  con- 
fiding, and  communicative  humanity  is  a  solace 
to  humanity. 

Much  of  the  talk  of  the  suffering  world  is  of 
this  description.  It  has  no  earthly  value  in 
itself ;  it  is  good  only  as  an  escape  for  pain. 
The  talk  of  those  two  disciples  was  foolish,  and 
the  Lord  did  put  a  stop  to  it  eventually,  but  he 
allowed  it  to  run  on.  He  knew  that  it  was  a 
temporary  necessity.  The  mind  of  man  is  some- 
times like  a  reservoir :  you  must  get  out  the  flood 
of  folly  before  you  can  occupy  it  with  wisdom. 
There  is  something  divinely  wise  and  patient  in 
the  delay  of  Christ.  He  did  not  join  those  dis- 
ciples too  soon.  He  allowed  them  to  have  their 
talk  out.  Exhaustion  is  sometimes  the  only  con- 
dition of  receptivity. 

In  every  generation  the  young  are  new  to  the 
ageless  problems  of  the  mind.  Their  hearts  are 
new  to  the  ancient  sorrow  of  the  world.  Debate 
has  great  fascination  for  brilliant  youth.    Debate 


336  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

of  all  things  in  earth  and  in  heaven  is  a  kind 
of  apostolical  succession  for  gifted  minds  in  each 
new  generation.  These  youthful  discussions  have 
little  or  no  value  in  themselves.  They  are  ways 
of  escape  for  the  undisciplined  and  unmatured 
power  within.  Let  these  debates  over  belief  and 
unbelief,  optimism  and  pessimism,  free  will  and 
necessity,  the  hopes  of  immortality  and  the  fears 
that  would  quench  aU  hope,  go  on.  These  es- 
capes for  serious  power  are  indispensable ;  thus 
is  prepared  the  way  of  the  Lord. 

In  the  bond  of  friendship,  in  the  confidence 
of  home,  in  the  freedom  of  congenial  society, 
talking  is  a  great  blessing.  The  hurt  that  one 
receives  in  the  hard  struggle  of  life  is  thereby, 
in  a  measure,  healed,  the  pam  of  disappointment 
is  lessened,  the  blows  of  adversity  are  for  the 
moment  disregarded,  and  the  wounds  of  sorrow 
are  done  up  in  the  oil  and  wine  of  tender  human 
sympathy.  Carlyle's  doctrine  of  silence  is  true, 
but  it  is  not  the  whole  truth.  Frequently  the 
best  way  to  get  rid  of  a  foolish  mood  is  to  let 
it  expend  its  force  in  talk.  When  a  group  of 
persons  have  talked  for  hours  over  the  situation 
of  human  life,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  youth 
and  all  the  confidence  of  inexperience,  the  mass 
of  talk,  as  it  rolls  into  view  a  huge  cloud  of  crude- 
ness  and  irrelevancy,  is  apt  to  induce  readiness 
to  listen  to  a  wiser  voice. 


TOWABD  EVENING  337 

The  method  of  Socrates  was  to  get  young 
men  to  talking.  Many  of  them  came  to  him 
sure  that  they  understood  all  about  holiness, 
courage,  temperance,  friendship,  knowledge,  and 
justice.  He  made  them  utter  themselves,  and 
if  he  did  not  make  them  wiser,  he  did  draw 
much  of  the  folly  out  of  them.  In  the  Gos- 
pels one  is  often  amazed  at  the  foolish  sayings 
of  the  disciples,  and  one  wonders  how  these 
things  came  to  be  recorded.  It  was  part  of  the 
method  of  Jesus  to  make  men  talk.  "  Whom 
do  men  say  that  I,  the  Son  of  man,  am  ? " 
The  gossip  of  the  multitude  had  for  Jesus  a 
human  interest,  inasmuch  as  he  came  to  make 
men  wise. 

In  this  way  we  are  to  look  at  much  that  calls 
itself  literature.  It  is  neither  deep,  nor  strong, 
nor  wise.  It  is  in  no  way  a  masterful  or  even 
a  useful  dealing  with  the  great  tragic  situations 
of  human  life.  Human  suffering  and  loss  lie 
far  away  from  these  poor  interpretations.  Were 
it  not  for  kindly  intention,  or  the  absence  of 
unkind  intention,  these  poor  writings  would  be  a 
kind  of  blasphemy  against  the  majesty  of  human 
pain.  "  Knowest  thou  that  the  Lord  will  take 
away  thy  Master  from  thy  head  to-day  ?  "  "  Yea, 
I  know  it;  hold  ye  your  peace."  These  utter 
ances  are  currents  of  weakness,  and  folly.  Let 
them  flow.    They  may  help  to  drain  the  bog. 


338  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

In  writings  upon  religion  the  same  fact  must 
be  noted.  There  are  the  men  who  deal  only  in 
the  changes  in  theology,  in  the  loss  of  authority 
in  the  Bible,  in  the  unfavorable  attitude  of  the 
people  toward  the  church.  Whole  libraries  of 
books  are  devoted  to  that  in  Christian  faith 
which  never  was  important  except  to  men  in 
their  folly.  These  writers  wander  in  negation, 
settle  down  in  the  heart  of  the  transient,  culti- 
vate the  friendship  of  the  perishable  in  the  great 
faith  of  the  world,  become  melancholy  over  the 
loss  in  the  situation,  speak  only  of  the  dead 
Christ  in  Jerusalem.  Religion  has  its  perpetual 
tragedy,  —  its  questions  about  God,  his  character, 
his  government  of  the  world ;  its  profound  soli- 
citudes for  man  in  his  battle  with  evil  and  death. 
And  oh,  the  foolish  tongues  that  add  to  the  great 
tragic  mystery  their  painful  Babel !  The  litera- 
ture that  they  create  is  doubtless  to  be  looked 
upon  with  patience  and  benignity.  It  is  one  of 
the  ways  that  the  poor  world  has  for  lessening 
its  grief,  for  getting  clear  of  its  folly,  for  pre- 
paring the  way  of  the  Lord. 

3.  The  mysterious  companion  and  his  inter- 
pretation of  the  tragic  event  is  the  next  aspect 
of  the  day.  The  disciples  had  talked  themselves 
out.  They  were  ready  to  hear  another  voice 
upon  the  subject,  and  that  voice  seemed  at  once 
to  master    them  and   their  theme.    Slowly  the 


TOWARD  EVENING  339 

movement  of  history  prior  to  Christ  seemed  to 
shape  itself  for  culmination  in  his  cross ;  slowly 
the  significance  of  Moses  and  all  the  prophets 
appeared  to  be  in  their  love  and  sacrifice ; 
slowly  it  began  to  dawn  upon  them  that  a  suf- 
fering Messiah  was  the  answer  to  the  best  hope 
of  Israel,  that  a  sacrificial  Christ  was  the  goal  of 
the  best  teaching  and  of  the  best  character  of 
the  past,  and  the  divine  hope  for  their  race  and 
for  mankind.  They  received  this  thought  because 
they  could  not  help  it.  It  seemed  so  full,  so  ade- 
quate, so  divine,  that  they  could  not  resist  it. 
And  the  strength,  the  confidence,  the  beauty  of 
the  speaker  carried  them  away. 

Under  the  supreme  believing  minds  of  the 
race,  under  the  sovereign  teacher,  Christ,  under 
the  living  disciples  who  mediate  his  wisdom  and 
grace,  belief  comes  in  this  way.  The  situation 
of  human  existence  and  the  universe  is  looked 
at  through  other  eyes  than  our  own ;  we  hear 
the  great  believers  speak ;  we  listen  to  the  monu- 
mental witnesses  for  the  things  of  the  spirit ; 
we  ponder  as  their  interpretation  is  put  before 
us.  And  we  receive  it  at  last  because  we  cannot 
help  it ;  that  view  of  man  and  man's  history  and 
man's  universe  seems  to  be  the  truth.  It  comes 
to  seem  wiser,  deeper,  more  adequate,  nearer  the 
heart  of  things,  than  all  unbelief  or  doubt.  When 
the  spring  is  here,  the  dead  grass  disappears  one 


340  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

knows  not  how ;  it  really  goes  because  the  mul- 
titudinous spears  of  living  green  are  resistlessly 
pushing  it  out  of  the  way.  Life  takes  the  place 
of  death,  and  the  forlorn  earth  is  once  more 
in  the  bloom  of  the  year.  In  that  way  the  old 
unbelief  goes ;  in  that  way  the  new  faith  comes. 
The  mind  that  had  spoken  its  own  speculation 
until  it  got  wearied  is  somehow  hospitable  to  the 
thought  of  the  highest.  And  when  to  that  mood 
that  thought  is  spoken,  it  wins  its  way  like  the 
Son  of  God. 

Personality  somehow  gathers  about  the  great 
positive  thought  of  the  world.  Faith  centres  in 
sublime  personalities.  Isaiah  and  Paul  still  teach 
the  world,  and  soul  speaks  to  soul.  In  the  same 
way  Christ  is  inseparable  from  his  teaching. 
We  listen  to  him  as  we  read  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount ;  we  hear  him  as  we  study  his  parables ; 
the  Lord's  Prayer  still  carries  in  it  his  accents  ; 
the  entire  sum  of  his  teaching,  the  whole  vol- 
ume of  his  ministry,  is  a  word  spoken  by  him  on 
the  journey  of  life ;  and  the  gracious  and  sublime 
presence  is  somehow  deeper  than  all  thought, 
stronger  than  all  argument,  and  still  carries  the 
candid  and  earnest  spirit  away.  When  the  best 
in  the  soul,  in  the  church,  in  human  history,  in 
the  universe  comes  to  one  with  the  persuasion  of 
the  voice  of  Christ  and  the  power  of  his  hallowed 
presence,  a  wondrous  step  has  been  taken  into 


TOWARD  EVENING  341 

faith,  a  great  event  has  occurred  in  the  journey 
of  existence. 

4.  The  full  and  mighty  response  of  the  heart 
was  unnoted  at  the  time,  but  the  disciples  re- 
turned to  it  afterwards.  They  could  not  do  other- 
wise, for  the  way  in  which  Christ  sounded  and 
satisfied  their  whole  being  was  a  supreme  wit- 
ness to  his  truth. 

If  a  musical  instrument  could  speak,  whom 
would  it  claim  as  master?  Would  it  not  judge 
by  its  own  nature,  would  it  not  go  by  the  witness 
of  its  heart  ?  The  persons  who  merely  make  a 
noise  upon  it,  or  who  set  one  register  of  power 
in  it  at  painful  variance  with  another,  or  who 
call  only  for  what  is  weakest  in  its  character, 
the  great  organ  would  brand  as  impostors.  But 
the  person  whose  touch  from  first  to  last  liberates 
melody,  whose  knowledge  and  skill  explore  and 
bring  into  play  the  whole  compass  of  its  varied 
and  wonderful  nature,  whose  purpose  and  piece 
are  suited  to  the  entire  fullness  of  its  capacity, 
who  gives  it  an  existence  of  order,  harmony, 
power,  and  joy,  and  who  makes  it  support  and 
blend  with  the  chorus  of  human  voices,  —  the 
mighty  instrument  would  crown  him  master. 
The  same  experience  leads  to  the  confession  of 
Christ  as  Lord.  What  he  does  for  his  disciples 
who  walk  with  him,  and  who  listen  to  his  inter- 
pretation, and  who  yield  themselves  to  his  spirit, 


342  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

is  the  final  reason  for  their  faith  in  him.  He 
plays  upon  life  as  no  one  else  does.  His  touch 
is  divine.  He  draws  out  the  great  incentives 
of  the  intellect,  he  sets  free  the  vast,  melodious 
feehngs  of  the  heart,  he  brings  into  action  the 
sublime  forces  of  the  will,  —  patience,  fortitude, 
faithfulness.  He  makes  the  soul  of  his  true  dis- 
ciple sing  for  joy.  For  those  who  live  closest 
to  him  life  becomes  a  chant.  The  great  notes 
of  trial,  disappointment,  disillusionment,  sorrow, 
and  despair  are  rolled  up  into  the  mightier  com- 
binations of  courage,  achievement,  wisdom,  love, 
faith,  joy,  and  they  become  but  the  sweet  soul  of 
pathos  in  the  triumphant  song  of  Christian  experi- 
ence. The  jjerson  whose  heart  burns  under  the 
power  of  Christ  has  the  best  of  reasons  for  call- 
ing him  Lord. 

The  trouble  with  us  aU  is  that  we  know  well 
only  the  forces  that  are  not  divine.  The  hands 
that  have  played  upon  us  to  our  hurt,  we  know. 
The  promises  which  the  various  aspects  of  the 
world  have  made  to  our  devotion  and  which  have 
not  been  kept,  we  understand.  We  have  found 
many  impostors,  because  we  have  allowed  the 
wrong  things  to  appeal  to  us.  The  invitation  of 
a  score  of  various  pretenders  we  have  accepted 
to  our  sorrow,  the  invitation  of  Christ  we  have 
not  put  to  the  proof.  We  have  found  out  what 
is  not  good,  what  does  not  satisfy,  what  fails  to 


'    TOWABD  EVENING  343 

make  the  heart  burn  with  a  divine  fire.  We 
have  walked  with  selfish  pleasures,  selfish  ambi- 
tions, social  dreams,  business  schemes,  scientific 
aims,  artistic  purposes,  finite  ends  ;  and  we  have 
missed  the  zest  upon  which  we  had  set  our  hearts. 
We  have  wasted  our  supreme  devotion.  It  re- 
mains to  seek  the  Lord  with  our  whole  strength, 
to  make  our  religion  central  and  governing,  to 
give  our  Master  an  opportunity  to  awaken  in  us 
the  witness  of  the  burning  heart. 

5.  The  last  thing  in  that  great  day  was  Christ 
standing  in  the  peace  and  glow  of  the  evening. 
Here  is  the  climax  of  the  day  at  its  close.  All 
doubts,  all  fears,  all  sorrows  had  lifted,  and 
rolled  away  ;  all  hopes  and  surmises  and  dreams 
had  come  to  their  fulfillment ;  the  best  of  the  day 
was  the  last.  The  Christ  who  had  been  absent  in 
the  morning,  who  had  been  unseen  but  strongly 
felt  during  the  progress  of  the  hours,  stood  in 
the  sunset,  framed  in  by  its  farewell  fires  and 
more  glorious  than  they.  The  evening  with 
Christ  in  it,  the  risen  Christ  about  to  reveal  him- 
self fully  to  his  disciples,  is  the  supreme  felicity 
of  one  of  the  happiest  of  days. 

May  we  not  hope  for  this  in  our  life  ?  May 
we  not  expect  the  morning  heaviness  to  depart  ? 
May  we  not  anticipate  something  better  than 
the  walk  and  the  relief  that  comes  from  the  mere 
expression  of  sorrow  ?    May  we  not  look  for  the 


'344  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

divine  companion  on  the  journey  and  his  burning 
power  upon  the  heart?  Shall  manhood  not  come 
to  this  ?  Shall  it  not  rise  into  fellowship  with 
the  best  that  meets  it,  the  mysterious  highest 
that  joins  it  on  the  way  ?  And  when  it  is  toward 
evening,  shall  we  not  look  for  something  higher 
stiU? 

How  easily  we  shall  let  the  world  go,  if  we 
possess  something  infinitely  worthier  than  it  ! 
How  easy  it  was  for  those  disciples  to  shut  out 
the  world  when  they  were  shutting  in  Christ ! 
It  is  always  easy  to  surrender  the  less  for  the 
greater  ;  the  weakness  of  childhood  for  the  power 
of  youth,  the  immaturity  of  youth  for  the  disci- 
plined strength  of  manhood,  the  unseeing  eyes 
of  manhood  for  the  \ision  that  in  the  evening 
is  full  of  the  glorious  Christ.  Christ  kept  back 
from  these  disciples  his  best  to  the  last.  If  we 
walk  with  him,  if  we  listen  to  him,  if  we  give  up 
our  nature  to  him,  if  we  constrain  him  when  it 
is  toward  evening  to  come  in  and  abide  with  us, 
we  shaU  see  him  at  his  best  when  our  day  is  at 
its  close. 

The  way  from  Jerusalem  to  Emmaus  is  still 
there.  Those  eight  miles  from  city  to  village 
have  more  of  high  and  tender  humanity  in  them 
than  any  similar  distance  on  the  face  of  the 
earth.  That  path  winding  among  the  Judeau 
hills  is  alive  with  the  pathos  of  man's  loss,  with 


TOWABD  EVENING  345 

the  beauty  and  peace  of  man's  hope.  It  may- 
well  serve  as  a  symbol  for  the  journey  of  life, 
from  the  mystery  of  birth  to  the  mystery  of 
death,  from  the  crowded  city  of  life  to  the  soli- 
tary abode  at  Hfe's  end.  And  as  the  risen 
Christ  glorified  that  walk  from  city  to  village, 
as  his  presence  filled  it  with  unfading  beauty, 
so  it  may  be  with  our  journey.  He  will  join  us 
somewhere  on  the  way.  He  will  go  with  us  to 
the  journey's  end.  He  will  make  himseK  known 
to  us  at  the  last.  He  will  change  our  whole  view 
of  our  human  world.  He  will  show  us  that  it 
belongs  to  him. 

Many  sad  tales  are  told  in  these  days  about 
life's  end.  Eminent  servants  of  the  body  tell  us 
there  are  no  ecstasies  in  death.  That  is  hardly 
true.  Even  so,  there  is  something  better  than 
ecstasy.  There  is  light  in  the  soul,  peace  below 
the  reach  of  pain,  a  voice  that  can  be  heard  in 
the  tumult,  a  sense  of  his  presence  who  said, 
*'  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway,  even  unto  the  end 
of  the  world." 

Death  should  be  a  sunset  with  Christ  in  it. 
The  sun  goes,  but  wherever  he  goes  it  is  day. 
He  blazes  a  path  for  himself  through  the  forest 
of  night.  Darkness  rests  only  upon  the  world 
that  he  has  left.  So  the  disciple  of  Christ  may 
go.  The  Lord  is  his  light  and  his  salvation. 
The  gloom  of  Christian  death  is  confined  to  this 


346  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

earth ;  it  is  for  those  who  remain  behind.  The 
ongoing  soul  has  a  different  fate.  "  The  sun 
shall  be  no  more  thy  light  by  day ;  neither  for 
brightness  shall  the  moon  give  light  unto  thee : 
but  the  Lord  shall  be  unto  thee  an  everlasting 
light,  and  thy  God  thy  glory." 


XIX 

SOME  CONTINUITIES   OF  INDIVIDUAL 
EXISTENCE 

"And  through  it  he  being  dead  yet  speaketh." 

Hebrews  xi,  4. 

The  question  of  the  duration  of  the  individual 
human  existence  is  one  of  great  and  grave  con- 
cern. The  question  is  of  great  concern  because 
on  the  whole  life  is  good,  and  still  further,  be- 
cause life  is  involved  with  love.  The  desire  to 
go  on  is  nearly  universal,  and  almost  every  life 
is  dear  to  some  other  life.  The  question  is  of 
grave  concern  because  death  confronts  every 
man.  The  deepest  conflict  known  to  man  is  that 
between  life  and  time,  love  and  death.  Life 
has  no  wish  to  come  to  its  limit,  to  arrive  at  its 
goal,  to  attend  the  end  and  cease  to  be.  Life 
and  death  are  in  absolute  antagonism.  They 
are  inevitable,  irreconcilable  enemies,  and  love 
sides  with  life  against  death.  Life  and  love  stand 
together,  supporting  the  same  great  cause.  We 
see  them  this  morning,  fair,  full  of  joy  and  yet 
touched  with  fear,  raising  the  question  that  man 
has  pondered  since  the  world  began :  If  a  man 
die,  shall  he  live  again  ? 


348  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOB 

That  the  duration  of  individual  existence  is 
not  arrested  by  the  fact  of  physical  death  is  the 
plain  teaching  of  this  story  about  Abel.  Accord- 
ing to  the  belief  of  this  writer,  his  hero  had  been 
dead  several  thousands  of  years  ;  and  yet  he  was 
cited  as  a  witness  for  true  sacrifice  against  false. 
Although  forty  centuries  had  passed  since  he 
lived,  he  had  continued  in  the  earth  a  speaker 
for  the  Highest.  His  existence  on  the  earth  was 
brief ;  his  death  was  a  tragedy  ;  but  his  life  did 
not  end  at  the  gi-ave.  It  continued  a  potent 
influence  down  to  the  time  of  Christ ;  it  has 
continued  a  good  influence  from  that  day  to 
this.  The  text  calls  attention  to  this  survival  of 
life's  power  when  life  in  this  world  has  run  its 
course ;  it  brings  out  the  fact  that  the  duration 
of  individual  existence,  in  one  form  or  another, 
transcends  the  grave,  and  lasts  on  into  future 
ages.  It  therefore  fitly  presents  to  our  thought 
this  morning  the  subject.  Some  Continuities  of 
Individual  Existence. 

1.  There  is  first  of  all  racial  continuity.  Par- 
ents live  in  their  children,  they  continue  to  live 
in  their  descendants.  They  do  not  cease  to  live 
while  any  drop  of  their  blood  flows  in  the  veins 
or  builds  the  tissue  of  any  living  man  or  wo- 
man. If  Abel  had  left  children,  if  his  children 
had  given  to  the  world  other  children,  if  the  line 
of  descent  had  gone  on  without  break  to  our 


CONTINUITIES   OF  LIFE  349 

time,  then  it  could  have  been  said  that  in  one 
sense  this  great  ancestor  was  still  alive.  This  is 
the  secret  of  much  of  the  charm  and  vitality  of 
the  story  of  Adam  and  Eve.  They  are  the  foun- 
tain of  the  race ;  they  live  forever  in  the  end- 
less organic  existence  of  the  race.  Their  blood 
is  renewed  in  every  generation ;  and  they  are 
potent  for  weal  or  for  woe  in  the  continuous 
stream  of  man's  being. 

Does  this  sort  of  continuous  existence  mean 
anything?  Is  it  capable  of  entering  into  the 
mind  as  serious  fact  and  governing  considera- 
tion ?  Is  man  so  made  that  the  thought  of  the 
perpetuation  of  his  physical  being  in  the  physi- 
cal being  of  an  endless  line  of  descendants  may 
operate  as  motive  ?  No  noble  man  can  doubt 
it.  This  elemental  form  of  immortality  is  of 
the  most  serious  concern.  If  a  life-saver  on 
this  stormy  coast  could  believe  that  forever  his 
heroism  as  a  life-saver  would  continue  to  repeat 
itself  to  the  end  of  time,  that  it  would  continue 
to  rescue  countless  thousands  from  the  terrors 
of  an  angry  sea,  would  it  not  operate  upon  his 
spirit  as  motive?  If  some  train-wrecker  could 
believe  that  his  train-wrecking  crimes  would 
perpetuate  themselves  to  the  world's  end,  if  he 
could  see  the  millions  of  mutilated  bodies  rolled 
together  as  the  issue  of  his  wickedness  and  hear 
other  millions   weeping   over   the  bereavement 


350  THROUGH  MAN    TO  GOD 

that  he  had  caused,  would  it  not  do  something 
toward  arresting  him  in  his  mad  career  ? 

Precisely  analogous  is  the  case  of  descent. 
There  is  nothing  more  appalling  to  an  awakened 
mind  than  the  idea  of  the  perpetuation  of  indi- 
vidual wickedness  in  the  organic  tendencies  of 
descendants.  To  be  wicked  is  to  do  all  that 
one  can  to  make  one's  children  curse  the  day 
in  which  they  were  born,  and  to  curse  the  father 
or  mother  who  thus  ruthlessly  smote  them  with 
pestilential  misery.  Youthful  honor  starts  back 
in  the  presence  of  iniquity,  at  the  thought  not 
only  of  the  disgrace  that  the  wrong  deed  may 
bring  to  the  person  doing  it,  but  also  and  yet 
more  at  the  thought  of  the  shame  and  suffering 
it  may  bring  to  those  unborn.  Parental  love  is 
here  face  to  face  with  the  deepest  fact  in  exist- 
ence. No  fondling  of  your  child,  no  education, 
no  advantages,  no  wealth  or  position,  can  alto- 
gether undo  the  organic  injury  of  an  unhallowed 
parenthood.  Here  the  disaster  is  in  the  seat  of 
life.  You  can  mitigate  it,  but  you  cannot  remove 
it.  And  on  the  other  hand,  is  there  any  wish  of 
the  human  heart  nobler  than  that  which  seeks 
to  provide  for  children  clean  blood,  organic 
health,  native  honor,  sweet  humanity,  a  physical 
existence  full  of  harmony,  with  endless  music 
locked  up  in  every  fibre  of  it  ? 

Here  again  the  Adam  and  Eve  story  is  vital. 


CONTINUITIES  OF  LIFE  351 

The  disgrace  of  the  parent  becomes  the  calamity 
of  the  child,  and  the  foreseen  calamity  of  the 
child  should  avert  the  disgrace  of  the  parent. 
How  many,  under  the  old-fashioned  belief,  have 
hated  Adam  and  Eve  for  the  woe  that  they 
wrought  upon  their  descendants ;  and  now  that 
we  no  longer  live  under  that  order  of  behef ,  we 
still  see  what  woe  and  what  glory  parents  may 
work  out  for  their  children  and  their  children's 
children  to  the  latest  generation. 

This,  it  is  said,  is  a  trivial  kind  of  immortality. 
It  is  not  so.  It  is  a  momentous  kind  of  immor- 
tality. If  there  were  no  other  immortality,  here 
is  something  intrinsically  great  and  moving. 
Blood  is  the  basis  of  life,  good  blood  of  good 
life,  rich  and  rare  blood  of  rich  and  rare  life. 
The  stream  of  blood  is  continuous  from  parent 
to  child  to  the  end  of  the  line  of  descent.  Shall 
it  be  a  river  of  God,  or  a  stream  of  ink  ?  Shall 
it  be  cleansed  as  it  passes  through  you,  or  still 
further  polluted?  Shall  you  serve  as  filter  or  as 
sewer  to  the  vital  current  ?  Shall  you  bless  or 
curse  your  kind,  live  as  angel  or  devil,  as  saviour 
or  blaster,  in  the  future  life  of  your  race  ?  Shall 
you  hang  millstones  about  the  neck  of  your 
children,  or  give  them  wings  to  fly  in  the  world 
of  truth  and  love  ?  If  this  is  not  a  noble  immor- 
tality, there  is  none,  and  if  this  is  not  motive, 
again  motive  does  not  exist. 


352  THROUGH  MAN  TO   GOD 

2.  There  is  continuity  of  individual  existence 
through  literary  record  and  achievement.  Great 
men  live  in  the  historic  record  of  their  great- 
ness ;  other  great  men  live  on  account  of  their 
literary  achievement.  Perhaps  there  should  be 
included  the  class  who  live  in  great  monuments 
and  those  who  live  because  they  designed  and 
executed  these  monuments.  Monumental  fame, 
whether  in  art,  science,  philosophy,  political  ac- 
tivity, historic  record,  or  religious  worth,  may 
serve  as  a  generic  phrase  to  cover  those  who  have 
achieved  greatness  and  those  who  have  become 
great  by  the  fitting  commemoration  of  greatness. 

In  the  narrower  sense  of  monumental  fame, 
how  few  of  the  countless  multitudes  of  our  race 
are  chosen  for  this  honor.  Ten  poets  there  may 
be  who  are  sure  of  immortality.  Perhaps  there 
may  be  an  equal  number  of  philosophers,  artists, 
scientific  pioneers,  orators,  historians,  rulers,  and 
supreme  religious  leaders  whose  name  and  fame 
will  endure  to  the  end  of  time.  To  any  sane 
view  of  history  the  number  of  these  elect  spirits 
is  small.  The  stars  are  many,  but  the  vacant 
spaces  as  one  looks  up  into  the  infinite  night 
reduce  the  multitudinous  stars  to  insignificance. 
The  stars  are  many,  but  how  few  of  them  are 
visible  to  the  naked  eye  and  visible  everywhere. 
Limited  in  number,  mostly  local  in  power,  seldom 
of  universal  significance,  —  such  is  the  fact  about 


CONTINUITIES  OF  LIFE  353 

the  shining  contents  of  space,  such  is  the  fact 
about  the  glorious  and  abiding  names  in  human 
history. 

There  is,  however,  a  vastly  larger  view  of  the 
subject  than  this.  Monuments  are  for  humanity. 
The  hero  is  the  representative  of  humanity.  The 
individuals  of  the  generation  in  which  the  hero 
lived  and  achieved  live  in  the  monument  that 
perpetuates  the  memory  of  his  greatness.  The 
Pyramids  tell  not  only  of  the  heroic  kings  of 
Egypt,  but  also  of  the  heroic  race  that  lived  and 
achieved  under  them.  The  great  music  of  the 
world  uplifts  into  life  and  power  not  only  the 
soiil  of  the  dead  master,  but  also  the  countless 
souls  among  whom  he  lived  and  from  whom  he 
drew  his  interest  in  existence,  and  whose  sorrow 
and  hope  became  the  vast  minor  and  major  of 
his  mightiest  harmonies.  The  historian  is  at  his 
best  when  he  writes  of  the  people.  In  the  pages 
of  Thucydides,  the  Greek  race  fights,  suffers, 
and  goes  down  ;  in  Tacitus,  races  live,  taste  the 
sweets  of  victory,  and  drink  the  bitterness  of 
defeat.  In  Carlyle,  hero-worshiper  that  he  is,  the 
French  people  rise  and  light  the  fire  that  con- 
sumes a  thousand  years  of  misdeeds  and  crimes. 
In  Green,  the  English  race  displays  its  strong 
and  hopeful  existence.  In  all  the  greater  works 
of  man,  the  ultimate  voice  that  one  hears  is  the 
voice  of  the  people.    If  we  listen  to  Cromwell, 


354  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

we  hear  the  stem  notes  of  outraged  English 
manhood ;  if  we  listen  to  Washington,  we  catch 
the  firm  tones  of  the  American  colonist ;  if  we 
listen  to  Lincoln,  the  voice  of  the  American 
people  is  again  ringing  in  our  ears.  You  cannot 
forget  the  people,  the  nation,  the  humanity,  that 
the  great  man  represents.  The  great  thing  about 
the  earthly  immortality  of  Jesus  Christ  is  that 
one  hears  in  his  voice  the  articulate  conscience  of 
a  purified  humanity.  When  we  remember  him, 
we  remember  the  race  for  whom  he  stands. 
When  we  pay  our  homage  to  his  person,  we  offer 
veneration  to  the  manhood  of  the  world. 

The  best  example  of  this  universal  blending 
of  the  hero  and  those  whom  the  hero  served, 
one  finds  in  the  anonymous  in  literature.  Who 
wrote  the  Psalms?  No  one  knows,  no  one  will 
ever  know.  They  are  monumental  utterances  of 
the  religious  soul  of  the  nameless  writer  and 
his  nameless  contemporaries.  They  are,  I  some- 
times think,  a  better  introduction  to  the  deep  and 
beautiful  heart  of  those  early  centuries  because 
they  are  nameless.  They  are  no  longer  a  merely 
individual  monument ;  they  have  general,  racial, 
universal  significance.  The  beholding  eye,  the 
rapt  soul,  the  suffering  and  singing  heart  of  a 
whole  people  live  in  those  incomparable  lyrics  ; 
the  countless  individuals  of  that  age,  as  at  least 
capable  of  rising  to  this  height,  live  in  them. 


CONTINUITIES  OF  LIFE  355 

There  is  the  Book  of  Job.  Who  wrote  it  no 
man  can  tell.  No  man  will  ever  be  able  to  tell. 
It  represents  indeed  the  fortunes,  the  epic,  of  an 
individual  soul ;  and  at  the  same  time  it  utters 
the  epic  significance  of  a  suffering  and  achieving 
humanity.  It  is  as  good  for  the  modern  world 
as  it  was  for  the  ancient.  It  is  a  monumental 
book,  perpetuating  the  meaning  and  the  power 
of  the  unnumbered  lives  of  a  vanished  world, 
taking  up  into  itself  the  fleeting  generations  of 
never-resting  time,  giving  continuity  to  their 
brief  existence  through  its  own  endless  and  age- 
less utterance  of  the  deepest  and  the  highest  in 
man  and  in  the  fortunes  of  man's  race. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  this  capacity  of 
the  Bible  to  take  up  into  itseK  the  meaning  of 
the  swift-coming  and  swift-vanishing  generations 
of  men  is  its  supreme  capacity.  Who  wrote  the 
various  books  of  the  Bible  is  a  fair  and  an  in- 
teresting question.  A  thousand  other  questions 
concerning  its  origin,  contemporary  significance, 
and  limitations  are  interesting.  But  the  su- 
preme question  concerns  its  fitness  to  serve  as 
the  moniunental  inspiration  of  the  religious  life 
and  the  monumental  witness  of  the  religious 
heart.  In  this  book  are  the  prophets,  the  psalm- 
ists, the  apostles,  and  the  Master  ;  in  this  book 
are  the  Hebrew,  the  Greek,  and  the  Roman  races, 
the  Latin,  the  Teuton,  the  Anglo-Saxon,  and  the 


356  THROUGH  MAN  TO   GOD 

American  peoples  at  their  best.  In  it  will  be 
gathered  and  perpetuated  the  best  life  of  Europe, 
Asia,  Africa,  America,  and  the  islands  of  the 
sea;  it  is  destined  to  become  the  one  supreme 
literary  monument  of  a  spiritual  humanity. 

Does  this  kind  of  continued  existence  mean 
anything?  What  thoughtfid  man  would  say 
that  it  does  not  ?  Does  the  shaft  on  Bunker  Hill 
take  on  no  additional  meaning  from  the  fact  that 
it  represents  a  nation  in  arms  ?  Is  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  a  monument  only  to  the 
political  genius  of  Jefferson  ?  Does  it  not  mean 
infinitely  more  because  in  it  we  can  hear  the 
eloquent  manhood  of  the  American  people  ?  Is 
the  Constitution  simply  a  device  of  Hamilton, 
Madison,  and  other  wise  leaders,  or  the  organ  of 
a  race  of  freemen  ?  Is  our  history  the  record  of 
the  achievements  and  triumphs  of  solitary  genius 
only,  or  at  the  same  time  a  record  of  a  social 
achievement  and  triumph  ?  And  does  it  not  mean 
infinitely  more  to  us  to  look  upon  the  supreme 
monuments  of  the  race  as  standing  for  the  best 
life  of  the  race  ?  These  monuments  gained  their 
power  over  us  from  their  racial  significance. 
When  we  look  at  them,  we  are  surrounded  by 
a  great  cloud  of  witnesses.  The  dead,  the  count- 
less dead,  live  again,  and  cheer  us  on  at  the  high 
and  serious  task  of  existence.  And  if  monuments 
gain  their  power  in  this  way,  if  they  become  great 


CONTINUITIES   OF  LIFE  357 

only  as  they  continue  the  race  in  living  influence, 
surely  there  is  here  inspiration  for  heroic  char- 
acter. We  can  help  to  make  Washington  stand 
for  a  nobler  America.  We  can  do  something  to 
enable  Lincoln  to  rule  over  a  greater  America. 
We  can  do  something  to  add  to  the  significance 
of  every  great  monument  in  the  land,  every 
great  monument  in  the  world.  We  can  do  some- 
thing to  increase  the  mass  and  the  worth  of  that 
for  which  the  great  poem,  the  great  history,  the 
great  oration,  the  great  philosophy,  the  great  re- 
ligion speaks  and  sings.  We  can  do  something 
toward  the  enrichment  and  splendor  of  that  ideal 
kingdom  for  which  Christ  stands.  Thus,  when 
we  shall  have  ended  life  and  gone  the  way  of 
all  preceding  generations,  we  shall  continue  to 
be  in  the  greatened  monumental  records,  achieve- 
ments, ideals,  and  hopes  of  mankind  ;  we  shall 
live  continuously  in  the  living  and  growing 
power  by  which  humanity  is  interpreted,  inspired, 
and  carried  toward  its  goal. 

3.  There  is,  inside  this  continuity  of  individual 
existence  through  monumental  forms,  the  conti- 
nuity that  the  individual  obtains  through  insti- 
tutions. Here  the  family  comes  again  into  our 
thought,  and  in  a  new  way.  It  is  the  oldest 
institution  in  the  world.  In  it  the  memory  of 
individuals  is  longer  preserved  than  in  any  other 
institution ;    in  it   the    character  of  individuals 


358  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

operates  for  good  or  for  evil  in  a  unique  manner. 
The  memory  of  those  who  died  in  childhood, 
before  they  acquired  any  distinct  recognition 
beyond  family  connections,  is  lovingly  cherished ; 
the  memory  of  infants  who  came  into  this  sphere 
of  mystery  for  a  few  brief  days,  or  even  hours, 
continues  part  of  the  treasure  and  sorrow  of 
family  life.  Who  has  not  heard  a  deep-hearted 
mother  whisper  to  friendly  ears  the  story  of  her 
dead  children,  and  who  has  not  observed  that  in 
such  a  mother  the  whisper  became  more  reveren- 
tial and  tender  with  the  lapse  of  time  ?  The 
dead  infant  that  never  saw  the  light,  the  dead 
child,  continues  in  the  mind  and  heart  of  the 
noble  mother  while  life  lasts.  Carlyle  at  four- 
score years  of  age,  writing  to  console  a  niece  on 
the  death  of  her  child,  recalls  his  mother's  sor- 
row more  than  sixty  years  before  over  a  simi- 
lar calamity.  Thus  in  the  third  generation  the 
memory  wrought  with  tender  power. 

The  business  of  the  world  is  another  institu- 
tion. Great  men  are  remembered  here,  and  when 
they  are  no  longer  remembered,  their  business 
achievement  and  spirit  continue.  The  organized 
business  of  this  city  has  in  it  the  ability  and 
fidelity  of  a  million  noble  men  ;  it  rests  upon  the 
insight  and  power  of  the  past ;  it  is  the  monu- 
ment to  the  achievement  of  the  past,  and  in  it 
in  some  measure  the  existence  of  those  vanished 


CONTINUITIES   OF  LIFE  359 

thousands  of  leading  men  is  perpetuated.  Every 
vocation  was  organized  by  some  man,  some  Tu- 
bal Cain  started  the  new  form  of  social  service. 
Every  vocation  is  developed  and  perfected  by 
the  ability  and  fidelity  of  the  successive  gener- 
ations that  pursue  it.  Farming,  mining,  ship- 
building, navigation,  all  forms  of  production, 
exchange,  and  transportation,  carry  in  them  the 
power  and  character  of  the  worthy  who  served 
man  in  this  manner.  The  maxim  that  the  blood 
of  the  martyrs  is  the  seed  of  the  Church  is  of 
universal  application.  The  color  of  the  rose  is 
drawn  out  of  the  earth  and  out  of  the  sun,  out 
of  the  invisible  and  infinite,  and  in  the  same 
way  the  bloom  of  the  world's  enterprise  carries 
in  it  the  character  and  tone  of  the  world's  great 
workmen. 

The  school  and  college  are  other  institutions 
that  perpetuate  the  lives  of  individuals.  Schools 
like  Rugby  and  Eton  and  Harrow  do  more 
than  teU  of  the  great  men  who  studied  or  taught 
there.  Arnold,  the  great  master  of  Rugby,  stands 
for  a  multitude.  Stanley,  the  beautiful  disci- 
ple, suggests  another  multitude  of  invisible  but 
perpetuated  lives.  Eton  recalls  not  only  Wel- 
lington and  Gladstone,  the  great  soldier  and  the 
great  statesman,  but  many  centuries  of  aspiring 
boyhood.  John  Morley  tells  in  his  life  of  Glad- 
stone of  the  ovation  given  to  Dr.  Keate,  an  old 


360  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOD 

and  severe  master  of  Eton.  The  responses  to  the 
toast  to  the  Queen  and  to  the  Queen  Dowager 
vanished  into  insignificance  before  the  cheering 
given  to  this  old  master.  He  rose  among  many 
hundreds  of  eminent  men  whom  as  boys  he  had 
taught  and  flogged.  So  overwhelmed  was  he  by 
the  universal  outburst  of  reverence  and  affection 
that  he  could  not  speak.  The  rough  old  school- 
master stood  there  a  king,  representing  a  king- 
dom of  vanished  life.  In  his  severity  he  has 
stimulated  humor  for  a  century.  "  Write  down 
Hamilton  to  be  flogged  for  breaking  my  win- 
dow," said  the  master.  "  Sir,  I  did  not  break 
your  window,"  cried  Hamilton.  "  Write  down 
Hamilton  to  be  flogged  for  breaking  my  window 
and  for  lying,"  shouted  the  master.  "  Upon  my 
soul,  sir,  I  did  not  break  your  window,"  protested 
Hamilton.  "  Write  him  down  to  be  flogged  for 
breaking  my  window,  for  lying,  and  for  swear- 
ing," concluded  the  master.  So  the  generations 
of  schoolboys  live  in  the  strength  and  roughness 
and  devotion  of  great  teachers. 

We  have  near  us  a  college  great  by  the  pre- 
sence in  it  of  nearly  three  centuries  of  noble 
graduates.  While  it  stands  it  will  conserve  the 
lives  of  its  worthy  sons,  doing  its  work  by  the 
strength  of  the  living  and  the  dead.  Part  of 
the  power  of  Harvard  College  is  in  its  associa- 
tions.   The  Puritan  has  left  upon   it  his  inef- 


CONTINUITIES   OF  LIFE  361 

faceable  mark.  The  colonist,  the  revolutionist, 
the  daring  patriot  in  the  war  for  the  preservation 
of  the  Union,  each  has  dyed  its  name  in  the  fair 
and  brilliant  colors  of  his  own  devotion.  The 
great  succession  of  educated,  gifted,  and  high- 
minded  youth  has  hallowed  the  college  yard,  the 
trees,  the  old  buildings,  and  charged  Alma  Mater 
with  the  sacred  strength  of  unnumbered  lives. 
Great  men  appear  in  her  history  like  distinct, 
familiar  stars  ;  but  the  light  in  the  firmament 
in  which  these  stars  move  is  not  all  from  them. 
Thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  invisible 
shining  lives  are  there  as  points  of  light ;  they 
are  known  by  no  special  sign,  they  exist  in  the 
general  illumination  and  peace  which  they  help 
to  maintain. 

Political  institutions  are  another  form  of  per- 
petuation. History  in  a  living  nation  and  for  a 
living  people  is  power.  Japan  is  to-day  doing 
battle  by  the  virtue  of  the  living  and  by  the 
strength  of  the  dead.  Her  national  life  has  con- 
served the  noble  devotion  of  an  immemorial 
succession  of  brave  and  patriotic  men.  In  this 
American  republic  we  look  for  the  same  kind 
of  continuity.  The  republic  will  never  be  too 
great  to  remember  the  founders  and  their  gen- 
eration, the  redeemers  and  their  militant  hosts ; 
it  wiU  never  be  too  great  to  recall  the  successive 
generations  of  its  lovers  and  servants.    The  old 


362  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

flag  will  grow  more  and  more  precious  and  mov- 
ing the  older  it  becomes.  When  the  dear  burn- 
ing love  of  sixty  generations  of  boys  and  girls  is 
seen  in  its  crimson  bars,  when  the  pure  sweet 
wisdom  of  sixty  generations  of  the  aged  and 
venerable  is  beheld  in  its  silver  stars,  and  when 
in  its  field  of  blue  the  loyalty  is  felt  of  a  mul- 
titude that  no  man  can  number,  the  power  of 
the  flag  will  be  a  still  vaster  delight,  and  the 
nation  whose  majestic  ensign  it  is  will  be  greater 
because  of  the  presence  in  its  memory  and  heart 
of  an  unseen  and  countless  host. 

The  supreme  institution  is  the  Christian 
Church.  What  a  perpetuater  it  has  been  !  The 
precious  literatures  of  the  Hebrew  and  the  Greek 
races  have  been  preserved  and  handed  down  by 
the  Church.  Great  men,  the  succession  of  great 
men,  great  races,  and  their  work  have  been  con- 
served to  the  modern  world  through  the  media- 
tion of  the  Church.  We  owe  immortal  thanks 
to  this  institution,  not  only  for  the  kingdom  of 
love  for  which  it  stands,  but  also  for  bringing 
down  to  our  time  the  lost  treasure  of  ancient 
races  overwhelmed  in  calamity. 

The  Church  is  an  institution  with  the  sub- 
limest  vision.  It  observes  All  Saints'  day  ;  it 
observes  All  Souls'  day.  All  the  human  beings 
that  have  breathed  this  atmosphere  of  ours  in 
any  century  of  time,  in  any  zone  of  our  globe, 


CONTINUITIES   OF  LIFE  363 

are  annually  recalled  in  its  prayer.  Their  names 
are  forgotten ;  all  distinct  trace  of  them  has  van- 
ished ;  but  the  effect  of  their  life  is  still  in  the 
world,  and  this  consciousness  of  the  continuity 
of  their  being  in  the  life  of  their  race  is  thus 
seriously  confessed.  I  rejoice  in  All  Saints'  day. 
It  does  me  good  to  recall  the  great  and  the 
good  who  wrought  mightily  for  our  humanity, 
who  rose  through  the  purgatorial  fires  of  time 
into  spotless  character  and  benign  love.  I  re- 
joice in  All  Saints'  day,  but  I  rejoice  still  more 
in  All  Souls'  day.  I  think  then  of  all  the  chil- 
dren that  have  seen  the  light,  of  all  the  human 
beings  that  have  ever  lived,  of  their  sin,  sorrow, 
love,  despair,  and  death,  and  I  can  see  this 
cloud  of  humanity,  vast,  dark,  terrible,  yet  shot 
through,  here  and  there  transfigured,  its  wild 
and  broken  circumference  edged  with  the  gold 
of  unforgotten  and  unforgettable  service  to  pos- 
terity, and  by  posterity's  pity,  gratitude,  and 
hope.  The  one  humanity  is  to  me,  I  confess, 
a  sublime  vision,  the  whole  might  of  the  past 
living  in  the  life  of  to-day,  and  for  this  one 
humanity  the  Church  is  the  great  witness. 

What  is  there  here  to  greaten  our  hearts? 
Much,  I  believe.  Institutions  conserve  and  per- 
petuate what  is  best  in  human  life ;  they  pro- 
long indefinitely  the  influence  of  good  men  and 
women.    We  have  in  our  own  church  an  impress- 


364  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

ive  example.  We  worship  every  Sunday  with 
seven  generations  of  the  members  of  this  church 
and  congregation.  The  building  is  alive  with 
the  dear  humanity  of  the  past.  The  dead  speak 
with  a  voice  deeper,  more  tender,  and  mightier 
far  than  any  living  voice.  The  hush  of  their 
finished  career  is  upon  us,  the  awe  of  the  unseen 
in  which  they  are  gathered  rests  upon  us.  The 
stone  cries  out  of  the  wall,  and  the  beam  out  of 
the  timber,  the  character  and  spirit  of  our  entire 
past  is  active  and  potent  upon  us  to-day.  Oh,  that 
we  might  live  to  increase  this  holy  spell,  to  add 
to  this  majestic  influence,  to  greaten  the  church 
when  we  are  no  longer  visible  here !  Oh,  that  we 
might  so  live  as  to  become  worthy  to  be  numbered 
among  those  whose  spirit  shapes,  and  will  for- 
ever shape,  the  best  life  here !  Oh,  that  we  might 
so  live  that  in  this  Church  of  Christ  we  shall  find 
our  silent,  beautiful,  monumental  witness ! 

4.  These  continuities  of  individual  existence 
lead  up  to  the  question  of  personal  continuity. 
The  human  spirit  is  able  to  lay  hold  of  other 
lives,  make  them  the  bearers  of  its  meaning,  and 
carry  down  the  stream  of  time  its  power.  When 
the  sold  can  no  longer  go  on  here,  it  is  able  to 
deposit  its  energy  in  the  living  world,  and  thus 
continue  its  influence  in  the  earth.  All  this  is 
fact,  clear,  certain,  undeniable.  These  continui- 
ties of  which  I  have  spoken  as  matters  of  fact 


CONTINUITIES   OF  LIFE  365 

raise  the  great  question  of  faith,  the  capacity  and 
likelihood  of  the  individual  soul  to  live  after 
death  in  the  unseen. 

Something  has  already  been  said  in  favor  of 
personal  continuity  in  the  great  facts  to  which 
I  have  called  attention.  If  it  is  true  that  in 
the  few  brief  years  of  his  earthly  career  an  Abel 
can  speak  forever  in  behalf  of  the  Highest,  that 
he  can  forever  ennoble  the  blood  of  the  race, 
add  to  the  depth  and  pathos  of  its  literary  monu- 
ments, increase  the  volume  of  meaning  and  spirit 
in  its  institutions,  it  would  seem  that  in  such 
a  being  we  are  dealing  with  an  amazing  and  a 
priceless  value.  If  God  is  moving  mankind  out 
of  the  depths  of  brutal  life  up  and  on  toward 
the  heights  of  spiritual  being,  it  would  seem  that 
those  who  help  Him,  who  enter  into  this  world- 
process  as  servants  of  God,  must  be  dear  to 
Him.  When  men  seek  noble  ends  over  long  dis- 
tances of  time  and  against  adverse  forces,  those 
who  come  to  their  aid  and  who  stand  by  them 
become  permanently  dear  to  them.  If  a  captain 
is  battling  with  hurricanes  and  high  seas,  and 
if  some  expert  navigator  among  the  passengers 
comes  to  his  aid  when  his  staff  of  officers  is  ex- 
hausted, and  helps  him  to  bring  his  ship  safely 
into  port,  we  expect  that  captain  to  love  that 
helper  forever.  If  a  son  or  daughter  is  in  grave 
moral  peril,  and  if  a  minister  speaks  a  word, 


366  THROUGH  MAN  TO   GOD 

or  shows  a  kindness,  or  exerts  an  influence  that 
saves  to  faith  and  honor  that  son  or  daughter, 
do  you  think  noble  parents  can  ever  cease  to 
remember  and  love  the  helper  ?  Is  not  this  the 
way  of  humanity?  The  domestic  that  serves 
you  in  faithfulness,  the  merchant  that  has  always 
done  fairly  by  you,  the  engineer  that  has  for 
years  taken  you  to  and  from  the  city  in  safety, 
the  family  physician  whose  devotion  is  beyond 
praise,  who  has  been  with  you  in  the  great  crises 
of  family  life,  the  writer  of  the  noble  book,  the 
teacher  of  your  mind  who  is  at  the  same  time 
the  friend  of  your  heart,  —  all  become  dear  to 
you.  The  greater  you  are  in  character,  the  closer 
you  hold  to  your  grateful  heart  the  servants 
of  your  life.  And  shall  mortal  man  be  more 
just  than  God?  Shall  a  man  be  more  pure  than 
his  Maker  ?  Shall  we  read  the  character  of  the 
Eternal  in  the  wild  and  devouring  sea,  or  through 
the  appreciations,  thanksgivings,  friendships,  and 
dear  loves  of  the  human  heart? 

In  so  far  as  the  Infinite  has  great  ends,  they 
must  be  dear  to  him  who  serves  those  ends. 
In  so  far  as  the  universe  has  meaning,  to  that 
extent  it  is  seeking  the  realization  of  great  ends. 
In  its  mighty  movement  upon  its  exalted  ends, 
some  things  must  be  precious  to  it.  And  can 
there  be  anything  so  precious  as  the  enlight- 
ened sympathy,  efficient  devotion,  and  suffering 


CONTINUITIES   OF  LIFE  867 

love  of  good  men  ?  If  Abel  can  forever  speak 
for  the  cause  of  God,  then  if  God  is  as  good  as 
good  men,  He  will  not  allow  this  faithful  speaker 
to  die.  If  pure  and  loving  hearts  are  essential  to 
God  in  the  lifting  of  society  into  higher  moods 
and  conditions,  God  will  not  pay  them  with 
death  and  the  grave,  with  the  life  of  a  worm  or 
a  fly,  but  with  an  endless  opportunity  to  love 
and  serve  Him.  If  one  may  believe  in  the  hu- 
manity of  God,  one  must  believe  in  the  immor- 
tality of  the  servants  of  God's  humanity.  The 
hero,  the  saint,  the  prophet,  the  humble  witness 
for  righteousness  everywhere,  must  be  a  price- 
less value  to  the  God  of  honor  and  love.  The 
worth  of  good  men  to  men  leads  to  this  con- 
clusion :  the  priceless  and  endless  worth  of  good 
men  to  God.  The  first  premise  of  faith  in  per- 
sonal continuity  after  death  is  the  heart  of  the 
Eternal.  It  is  a  heart  of  honor ;  and  therefore 
life's  worth  is  guarded  by  God's  honor. 

But  most  men  are  not  good.  What  shall  we 
say  about  them  ?  There  is  the  wheat,  and  there 
is  the  chaff.  What  shall  we  say  about  the  chaff  ? 
God  winnows  humanity  as  the  farmer  winnows 
his  grain.  If  we  say  the  good  are  dear  to  Him, 
must  we  not  say  that  the  bad  are  the  reverse  of 
dear? 

Asrain  we  return  for  an  answer  to  our  human- 
ity.    God  made  the  human  heart  at  its  best,  and 


368  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

He  must  be  as  good  as  the  best  that  He  has 
made.  If  a  mother  cannot  surrender  a  mistaken 
child,  if  she  still  holds  to  it  through  good  report 
and  evil  report,  if  she  follows  it  with  prayers 
and  tears  and  strong  cryings  unto  God  when  she 
can  serve  it  in  no  other  way,  if,  when  her  last 
breath  is  leaving  the  poor  body  worn  down  to 
death  with  sorrow  for  this  faithless  child,  that 
last  breath  is  a  remembrance  of  the  dear  sweet 
eyes  of  its  infanthood,  the  clear  and  high  instincts 
of  its  early  years,  the  undeniable  capacity  for 
goodness  that  has  never  been  lost,  that  cannot 
be  lost,  and  a  solemn  appeal,  "  Father,  into  thy 
hands  I  commend  the  soul  of  my  erring  child," 
—  do  you  think  that  God  will  do  less  ?  Perhaps 
no  soul  is  or  ever  can  become  chafP.  Perhaps 
the  chaff  is  the  evil  in  the  good  and  in  the  bad. 
Perhaps  the  task  of  God's  fan  is  to  get  the  chaff 
out  of  the  wheat,  and  to  get  the  wheat  out  of 
the  chaff,  to  winnow  the  wickedness  out  of  the 
good,  and  to  recover  the  goodness  that  lives  in 
the  bad.  Perhaps  capacity  counts  with  God  as 
a  priceless  value.  You  see  a  diamond  flashing  in 
the  crown  of  a  king.  That  is  beautiful ;  that  is 
nearly  priceless.  You  see  a  diamond  new  from 
the  mine,  fastened  in  the  rock  which  was  dug 
up  with  it,  covered  with  the  mire  in  which  it 
was  found,  shapeless,  unsightly,  apparently  dead. 
The  expert  knows  that  the  stuff  is  there.    Cut 


CONTINUITIES   OF  LIFE  369 

it  out,  put  it  on  the  wheel.  Turn  the  capacity 
to  character.  In  that  dull,  dead  stone  there  is 
the  capacity  to  flash  and  shine  like  the  jewel 
in  tha  crown  of  the  king.  That  capacity  makes 
it  precious.  You  will  not  throw  it  away,  you 
will  save  it  because  of  the  splendor  that  it  may 
become.  So  God  must  regard  the  multitudes 
to  whom  the  name  of  good  cannot  be  applied. 
They  are  here  with  the  rock  of  brutality  adhering 
to  them  and  with  the  mire  of  animalism  staining 
their  whole  existence,  they  look  no  better  than 
the  beast  of  the  field,  and  they  act  in  many  in- 
stances far  worse.  But  they  have  the  capacity  to 
become  men,  men  of  honor,  devotion,  heroism, 
love.  And  that  capacity  must  restrain  God  from 
allowing  them  to  perish. 

It  need  not  be  for  them  at  first  a  desirable 
continuity.  Here  we  come  to  the  great  idea  of 
retribution.  Cain  must  live  and  suffer  to  atone 
for  his  crime.  The  universe  is  not  done  with  him 
when  he  has  sinned  against  it.  The  universe 
is  not  done  with  a  bad  man  at  death.  He  must 
face  God,  law,  justice,  the  fearfvd  reality  of  a 
just  order;  he  must  live  and  suffer,  and  settle 
his  account  with  the  Eternal.  Between  the  begin- 
ning and  the  end  of  a  sinfid  will  there  is  plenty 
of  room  for  a  retribution  more  terrible  than 
even  the  imagination  of  a  Dante  can  paint. 

We  sometimes  marvel  at  the  strength  of  the 


370  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

Puritan's  belief  in  the  reality  of  the  life  after 
death.  His  confidence  in  it  is  so  amazing  to  us 
in  our  hesitation  and  doubt  about  it.  His  sense 
of  its  reality,  its  overwhelming  reality,  is  scarcely 
intelligible  to  us  in  our  vagueness  and  uncer- 
tainty. We  wonder  how  he  could  talk  so  long, 
and  with  such  sustained  and  solemn  interest, 
about  heaven  and  hell,  how  he  could  bring  those 
pictures  of  the  future  to  bear  uj)on  the  details 
of  his  earthly  life.  What  was  the  secret  of  it  ? 
Belief  in  God.  He  lived  in  the  most  solenm 
certainty  of  God's  presence  in  this  universe,  of 
God's  searching  presence  in  every  human  con- 
science, and  of  his  infinite  claim  upon  every 
human  soul.  He  lived  in  the  awful  consciousness 
of  the  living  God.  The  truth  and  falsehood  of 
his  thoughts,  the  right  and  wrong  of  his  con- 
science, the  love  and  the  hate  of  his  heart,  the 
nobility  and  the  baseness  of  his  life  concerned 
God.  His  existence  concerned  God  above  aU 
and  beyond  all ;  and  what  thus  stood  of  infi- 
nite moment  in  the  esteem  of  God  he  saw  could 
not  die.  He  might  rejoice  in  heaven  forever ; 
he  might  suffer  in  hell  forever ;  but  whether 
for  good  or  for  evil,  for  weal  or  for  woe,  live  he 
must,  perish  at  death  he  cannot.  To  me,  this  is 
the  sovereign  lesson  of  Puritan  faith.  It  is  this 
that  gives  to  the  Puritan  immortal  distinction. 
He   took   his   life   from   God.     He  held  it   in 


CONTINUITIES   OF  LIFE  371 

God's  light,  he  read  its  meaning  by  its  con- 
cern for  God,  and  stood  by  the  issues  of  his 
great  faith. 

There  can  be  no  real  belief  in  personal  con- 
tinuity apart  from  belief  in  God.  The  secret 
of  faith  in  man's  worth  is  in  the  higher  faith  in 
God's  humanity.  Those  who  see  God,  who  read 
his  character  through  the  best  that  He  has  made, 
who  dwell  with  God,  speak  to  Him,  serve  Him, 
love  Him,  form  the  habit  of  the  intellect  in  the 
sense  of  his  supreme  reality,  and  who  stand  in 
the  awe  of  a  sovereign  accountability  to  Him, 
will  not  find  it  hard  to  believe  in  the  life  ever- 
lasting. They  see  that  men  are  born  for  God, 
that  they  are  born  for  life  in  terms  of  the  Eternal 
conscience,  that  they  must  live  and  mount  by 
the  serene  path  of  joy  or  by  the  fiery  discipline 
of  woe,  till  they  become  the  conscious,  perfected 
sons  of  God,  continuous  and  endless  servants  in 
his  continuous  and  endless  king-dom  of  love. 
"  Thy  kingdom  is  an  everlasting  kingdom,  and 
thy  dominion  endureth  throughout  all  genera- 
tions." Within  the  compass  of  that  kingdom 
all  men  live.  They  are  there  the  subjects  of  the 
divine  conscience  and  heart ;  they  are  there 
under  the  inspiration  of  just  praise  and  under 
the  discipline  of  just  pain ;  they  are  there  that 
they  may  rise  into  the  endless  joy  of  perpetual 
and  perfect  service. 


XX 

GOD  ALL  IN   ALL 

"  That  God  may  be  all  in  all." 

1  Corinthians,  xv,  28. 

All  great  religion  is  a  kind  of  tidal  interest 
in  God,  an  unreturning,  endless  Godward  sweep 
of  the  soul.  The  character  of  the  soul  in  death, 
in  Tennyson's  great  lyric,  is  the  character  of  the 
soul  in  all  profound  religious  experience  :  — 

"  When  that  which  drew  from  out  the  boundless  deep 
Turns  again  home." 

The  sea  departs  from  itself  in  the  incoming  tide  ; 
it  returns  to  itself  in  the  tide  that  goes  seaward. 
The  animal,  the  sensuous,  the  merely  temporal 
life  carries  man  away  from  his  true  self,  away 
from  home.  When  man  considers,  when  he  comes 
to  himself,  his  first  great  resolve  is,  "  I  will  arise 
and  go  to  my  Father."  And  the  greater  a  man's 
religious  experience  becomes,  the  vaster  is  his 
interest  in  the  Eternal,  the  mightier  is  the  return 
of  his  whole  being  to  God.  Return  unto  thy 
rest,  O  my  soul.  Lord,  thou  hast  been  our  dwell- 
ing place  in  all  generations.  Thou  hast  made  us 
for  thyself,  and  we  cannot  rest  till  we  rest  in  thee. 
Listen  to  the  song  of  the  river.    It  is  now  the 


GOD  ALL  IN  ALL  373 

song  of  the  mountain  torrent,  again  it  is  the 
lyric  of  the  collected  and  chastened  stream,  still 
again  it  is  the  subdued  music  of  the  greater 
volume  and  the  steadier  current,  once  more  it  is 
the  peace  and  hope  with  which  it  meets  the 
mighty  sea.  From  first  to  last,  through  all  its 
notes,  the  song  is  of  the  river  that  longs  for  the 
sea.  Such  is  the  religious  soul.  It  begins,  it  con- 
tinues, and  it  ends  in  the  great  sigh,  "  When 
shall  I  come  and  appear  before  God  ?  "  Religion 
is  the  sense  of  God  in  life,  the  quest  for  more 
and  more  of  God,  the  increasing  current  of  life 
Godward,  the  final  rescue  of  existence  from  its 
own  littleness,  its  rush  into  the  tides  of  the  Infi- 
nite, who  takes  it  forth  into  the  boundlessness 
and  peace  of  his  own  being. 

There  is  something  very  impressive  in  the 
solemn  interest  with  which  aU  the  greater  think- 
ers of  the  race  regard  the  Infinite.  Plato  is  no- 
where so  great  as  when  he  is  struggling  to  express 
his  vision  of  the  Eternal  goodness  at  the  heart 
of  the  universe.  As  the  great  sun  is  to  the 
whole  visible  world  the  source  of  light  and  life 
and  joy,  so  is  the  Eternal  soul  of  goodness  to  the 
whole  invisible  realm.  It  is  maker,  sustainer, 
perfecter.  It  is  the  hght  and  life  and  joy  of  the 
eternal  sphere.  It  is  God  in  his  boundless  be- 
nignity and  power  sending  forth  the  eternal  tides 
of  his  blessed  life  upon  all  the  orders  of  being 


374  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

in  his  abiding  world.  Even  more  impressive, 
when  one  considers  the  sober  and  unimaginative 
cast  of  his  intellect,  is  the  quiet  and  free  delight 
into  which  Aristotle  rises,  at  the  close  of  his 
ethics  and  elsewhere,  as  he  faces  the  sovereign 
life  and  joy  of  the  Eternal  mind.  There  is  then 
in  his  cold  speech  a  glow  as  of  the  morning,  a 
touch  of  the  fire  and  splendor  of  the  evening. 
The  beatitude  that  lures  him  onward  is  the  hope 
of  the  supreme  moment  when  man  may  share 
God's  vision  of  his  world.  Spinoza  continues 
this  tradition  and  strengthens  it.  He  has  been 
called,  what  every  great  religious  soul  must  ever 
be,  a  God-intoxicated  man.  And  it  is  still  possi- 
ble to  worship  with  Spinoza,  so  sovereign  is  his 
conception  of  God,  and  so  great  and  pure  his  love 
for  the  Eternal.  Even  Kant,  who  is  so  shy  in 
the  presence  of  the  Infinite,  so  critical  of  every 
scheme  of  thought  that  professes  to  conduct  man 
thither,  so  agnostic  in  dealing  with  the  world 
of  the  intellect,  when  he  comes  to  the  human 
conscience  breaks  forth  into  song.  Here  is  some- 
thing that  will  not  be  confined,  that  takes  the 
pliilosopher  beyond  all  boundaries,  past  all  fini- 
tude,  into  the  moral  being  of  God.  In  Hegel,  as 
in  Edwards,  God  is  the  Alpha  and  the  Omega,  the 
beginning  and  the  end.  So  it  is  with  the  entire 
succession  of  the  greater  thinkers  of  our  race. 
Either  at  the  beginning  of  their  thinking  or  at 


GOD  ALL  IN  ALL  375 

the  end  they  are  fascinated,  carried  away  by  the 
vision  of  the  Eternal.  And  this  great  tradition 
of  the  loftiest  intellect  of  the  world  is  another 
witness  to  the  fact  that  in  Him  we  live  and  move 
and  have  our  being.  The  mystic  and  the  philoso- 
pher come  at  last  to  the  same  confession  :  I  have 
seen  God  face  to  face,  and  my  life  is  preserved. 
In  the  great  words,  "  that  God  may  be  all  in 
all,"  the  Apostle  sets  forth  his  aim  and  hope  for 
himself,  for  all  like  himself,  and  for  all  rational 
beings  in  all  worlds,  and  at  the  same  time  he 
utters  the  deepest  thought  of  his  intellect.  In 
the  text  Paul  is  both  saint  and  philosopher. 
His  heart's  desire  is  that  God  may  be  all  in  all 
in  his  own  soul,  that  he  may  be  all  in  all  in  the 
souls  of  all  men,  that  he  may  be  all  in  all  in 
the  whole  rational  universe.  A  vaster  or  higher 
aspiration  there  could  not  be.  It  is  the  vision  of 
all  sin,  wrong,  error,  infirmity,  woe,  forever  lifted 
and  banished  from  the  universe.  It  is  the  vision 
of  the  love  that  is  Infinite  and  Eternal  passing 
through  all  spiritual  life  in  the  strength  and 
sweetness  of  its  own  tides,  cleansing  all  hearts, 
keeping  all  souls,  lifting  all  into  perfect  obedi- 
ence and  perfect  peace.  The  Apostle  longs  for 
one  eternal  day,  light  everywhere,  light  without 
darkness  or  cloud  or  shadow,  light  over  all  and 
in  all ;  a  universe  dwelling  in  the  light  Eternal. 
This  is  Paul  the  saint.     This  is  the  longing  of 


376  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

his  soul  that  God,  the  Eternal  Lover  of  all  souls, 
may  be  all  in  all. 

Paul  the  philosopher  keeps  company  with  Paul 
the  saint.  There  is  a  hierarchy  of  beings.  There 
are  the  bare  worlds  ;  there  are  the  various  forms 
of  life  in  these  worlds ;  there  are  the  uncounted 
multitudes  of  human  souls ;  there  is  the  one 
Lord  of  all  human  souls,  putting  all  evil  under 
his  feet,  subduing  all  the  wild  forces  in  the  race 
that  he  came  to  save,  reigning  till  the  kingdom 
of  love  is  forever  sure,  and  then  gathering  up 
his  kingdom  in  himself,  delivering  all  for  the 
whole  eternal  future  into  the  dear  and  bound- 
less life  of  God.  Thus  in  a  few  words,  from  a 
profound  and  teeming  mind,  Paul  indicates  his 
thought  concerning  the  fate  of  man,  the  fate  of 
the  kingdom  of  God  in  time,  and  the  fate  of  the 
sovereign  Person  in  that  kingdom,  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  All  moves  forward  into  the  eternal  be- 
atitude in  the  heart  of  God.  There  all  is  ordered 
in  perfect  truth  and  in  perfect  love  and  in  per- 
fect fellowship. 

How  can  we  picture  Paul's  great  thought? 
We  can  say  with  Origen  that  God  has  many 
finite  worlds,  that  all  finite  worlds  are  a  kind  of 
santa  scala,  a  holy  stairway,  a  path  of  ascension, 
in  the  divine  discipline  by  which  God  prepares 
his  sons  for  his  eternal  glory.  We  may  think  of 
the  process  of  discipline  as  long,  hard,  weighty 


GOD  ALL  IN  ALL  377 

with  solemn  experience,  and  for  many  souls  full 
of  woe,  and  yet  not  endless  in  woe  or  in  pain  or  in 
sin  for  any  creature  that  God  has  made.  We  may 
figure  a  redemptive  universe,  changing  its  forms 
in  the  interest  of  righteousness,  passing  from  one 
degree  of  perfectness  to  another,  dissolving  its 
discords  and  shedding  them  forever,  and  resolv- 
ing itseK  at  last  into  one  eternal  rhythm  of 
rational  being  and  love  in  the  infinite  soul  of 
God.  Whatever  form  imagination  shall  devise, 
Paul's  central  thought  is  the  thought  of  order. 
And  this  order  is  set  at  last  in  the  heart  of  God. 
The  song  in  the  whole  range  of  its  notes  is  all 
order,  all  truth,  all  light,  all  fire,  all  soul ;  it  is 
the  voice  and  utterance  of  the  Divine  Soul.  This 
is  the  goal  toward  which  Paul  sees  the  universe 
tending.  The  consummation  is  the  eternal  song. 
This  passion  for  God  of  Paul  the  saint  and 
of  Paul  the  philosopher  is  one  that  Christianity 
must  forever  renew  in  the  disciples  of  Jesus. 
Our  Lord  said  that  the  pure  in  heart  shall  see 
God.  He  said  that  we  must  love  God  vdth  the 
whole  strength  of  our  being.  The  vision  of  God 
and  the  love  of  God  are  the  heart  of  the  gospel. 
They  give  to  the  intellect  great  and  increasing 
interest  in  God.  We  wonder  and  dream  how 
God  lives,  and  while  our  thought  must  fall  infi- 
nitely short  of  his  eternal  life,  we  cannot  deny 
ourselves  the  privilege  of  thinking  about  God. 


378  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

There  are  three  epochs  in  the  life  of  God, 
his  life  before  all  worlds,  his  life  in  all  worlds, 
his  life  after  aU  worlds  have  been  recalled  into 
himself.  Let  us  look  up  with  awe  to  the  Infinite 
life,  and  let  us  for  a  few  moments  wonder  and 
dream  about  God. 

1.  There  is  the  life  of  God  before  all  worlds. 
One  of  the  vexing  and  recurring  questions  in 
the  early  days  of  Christian  teaching  was  this: 
What  was  God  doing  before  He  began  to  make 
the  world?  The  impatient  answer  was  that  He 
was  preparing  a  place  of  torment  for  those  who 
should  ask  foolish  questions.  The  question  may 
be  unanswerable ;  it  is  nevertheless  legitimate. 
Indeed,  it  is  inevitable.  If  we  care  for  God,  we 
must  continue  to  wonder  about  his  life.  And  there 
is  no  aspect  of  the  Eternal  life  that  moves  us  to  a 
deeper  wonder  than  God's  life  before  all  worlds. 

We  know  that  our  lives  are  recent.  A  few  years, 
a  few  decades,  ago  we  were  not.  The  sight  of  our 
eyes,  the  hearing  of  our  ears,  the  imaginations  of 
our  heart,  the  forces  of  our  personal  soul,  were 
then  no  part  of  this  world.  Our  parents,  our  kin- 
dred, our  traceable  ancestors  go  farther  back,  but 
measured  against  the  centuries  their  existence 
is  as  it  were  of  yesterday.  The  nations  of  the 
world  are  divided  into  the  new  and  the  old,  and 
of  the  older  some  carry  the  line  of  a  living  human- 
ity into  the  dim,  distant  past.    Even  here  we  are 


GOD  ALL  IN  ALL  379 

overwhelmed  with  the  sense  of  recentness.  The 
peoples  in  the  valley  of  the  Nile,  in  the  valley 
of  the  Euphrates,  are  so  recent.  Their  works  of 
art,  their  pyramids,  tombs,  city  walls,  temples, 
are  the  ancient  works  of  a  recent  race.  If  we  say 
that  man  has  been  on  this  earth  for  fifty  thou- 
sand years,  even  that  is  nothing.  "  A  thousand 
years  in  thy  sight  are  but  as  yesterday  when  it 
is  past,  and  as  a  watch  in  the  night." 

Preceding  the  advent  of  man  in  the  earth  were 
numberless  forms  of  animal  life.  The  teeming 
energy  of  the  Creator  was  visible  in  their  power 
and  fertility.  Even  they  are  new  upon  the  stage 
of  existence.  The  earth  which  they  claim  as 
their  playground,  their  battlefield,  and  their  home 
is  young.  The  planets  that  accompany  it  in  its 
march,  the  moon  that  waits  upon  it  like  some 
bright  and  sweet  attendant,  the  sun  that  gives 
light  and  life  to  it,  and  that  glorifies  the  whole 
order  to  which  it  belongs,  —  all  are  of  recent 
birth.  The  countless  shining  worlds  of  space, 
the  numberless  glorious  contents  of  the  stellar 
vmiverse,  are  young  when  measured  against  the 
eternity  that  preceded  all  the  forms  of  being 
now  in  existence.  Thought  is  great.  It  is  the 
magician  that  with  a  single  stroke  can  wipe  time 
and  space  clean  of  all  worlds,  as  one  might  rub 
out  the  curious  figures  on  a  blackboard.  Thought 
is  great.    It  is  the  enchanter  that  can  present  us 


380  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

in  the  Eternal  presence  when  there  were  as  yet 
no  morning  stars  to  sing  together,  when  there 
were  as  yet  no  sons  of  God  to  shout  together  for 
joy.  Back  into  this  region  of  pure  Deity  man's 
intelligence  takes  him,  back  to  the  eternity  when 
God  was  all  in  all,  when  beside  Him  there  was 
nothing,  beyond  Him  nothing ;  when  He  was  the 
universe,  when  the  universe  was  He. 

How  did  He  live  in  that  lonely  eternity  ? 
Could  He  be  content  with  his  own  thoughts  ? 
Could  He  be  satisj&ed  with  the  dreams  of  the 
worlds  that  were  to  come  into  being  ?  Could  the 
eternal  designs  in  his  intelligence  of  the  coming 
forms  of  the  universe,  like  the  prior  and  beauti- 
ful designs  of  some  great  artist,  sufficiently  de- 
light his  sold  ?  Could  an  archetypal  universe,  a 
universe  modeled  in  thought,  forever  existing 
in  his  intellect,  forever  blazing  in  beauty  and 
splendor,  forever  expressing  his  creative  purpose, 
holding  in  its  vast  order  images  of  the  coming 
multitudinous  forms  of  created  beings,  meet  all 
the  demands  of  God's  heart  ?  Our  God  is  love. 
Whom  did  He  love  ?  Our  God's  delight  is  the 
delight  of  the  lover.  And  how  could  this  lonely, 
Eternal  God  know  either  love  or  joy  ? 

Then,  too,  the  race  that  was  to  be,  the  race  of 
man,  was  to  be  a  social  race.  It  was  to  consist 
of  young  men  and  maidens,  old  men  and  little 
children,  lovers,  husbands,  wives,  families,  kin- 


GOD  ALL  IN  ALL  381 

dreds,  nations,  a  social  humanity.  How  could  this 
social  race,  this  race  of  lovers,  come  out  of  an 
individual  God  whose  best  attempt  at  love  was 
the  love  of  himself  ? 

Thus  are  we  thrown  back  upon  the  glorious 
mystery  for  which  the  Trinity  stands.  It  is  a 
poor  word.  It  is  in  no  sense  a  Biblical  word,  and 
yet  it  has  come  to  stand  for  the  New  Testament 
conception  of  God,  the  conception  of  God  that 
saves  the  reality  of  God  to  mankind.  It  makes 
real  the  eternal  love  of  God  and  his  eternal  joy. 
It  tells  us  that  God  is  in  himself  a  mystic, 
unfathomable,  social  whole,  that  his  unity  is  not 
the  unity  of  the  bare  individual,  but  the  unity 
of  harmonious  difference.  It  tells  us  that  God  is 
eternally  the  Father,  and  the  Son,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit,  that  He  is  in  himself  the  ineffable  society, 
that  in  himself  there  is  eternally  the  living 
whole  according  to  which  He  is  to  make  our 
human  race,  our  human  world. 

Thinking  of  God  not  as  eternally  solitary,  but 
as  forever  an  incomprehensible  society  in  himself, 
we  look  upon  the  epoch  of  his  being  before  aU 
worlds  with  wonder  and  joy.  Forever  in  himself 
there  are  those  exchanges  of  thought,  those  mu- 
tualities of  love,  those  reciprocities  of  being,  that 
are  the  heart  of  our  happiest  existence.  We  can 
dream  over  the  eternal  society  in  God  before 
sin   or   weakness  or  woe  was  in  the  universe, 


382  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

wlieu  all  was  light,  splendor,  and  peace,  when  no- 
where was  there  any  darkness  or  cloud  or  shadow, 
when  only  the  Eternal  wisdom,  the  Eternal  love, 
and  the  Eternal  strength  were,  and  were  all  in 
aU. 

O  happy  universe  !  O  blessed  Eternal  Being ! 
The  finite  has  not  been  born.  The  finite  does 
not  exist.  There  is  no  limitation  upon  the  Life 
that  is  all  in  aU,- there  is  no  wrong,  no  cruelty, 
no  sad  struggle,  no  heart-break  anywhere  ;  there 
is  no  death  in  all  the  universe,  no  voice  of  weep- 
ing, as  of  Rachel  weeping  for  her  children,  and 
refusing  to  be  comforted,  because  they  are  not ; 
no  death,  no  grave,  no  despair ;  nothing  but  the 
morning  without  clouds,  the  fair  eternal  morn- 
ing, nothing  but  boundless  vision,  boundless  love, 
boundless  life  and  joy.  O  blessed  universe,  last 
forever !  Break  not  forth  from  the  beatitude  of 
thy  perfect  and  unshadowed  bliss.  O  Eternal 
God,  who  in  thyseK  art  aU  in  all,  continue  to 
be  all  in  all,  content  forever  with  thy  perfect 
Fatherhood,  thy  perfect  Sonhood,  and  thy  Holy 
Spirit.  Be  thou  the  blessed  universe ;  let  the 
blessed  universe  be  thy  life  and  thine  alone. 

2.  The  prayer  is  vain  ;  there  is  the  second 
epoch  in  the  being  of  God,  his  life  in  aU  worlds. 
Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  night  unto  night 
showeth  forth  knowledge.  The  heavens  are  here, 
declaring  the  glory  of  God.    The  cosmos  is  here, 


GOD  ALL  IN  ALL  383 

ordered,  advancing,  living,  the  solemn  and  amaz- 
ing embodiment  of  the  mind  and  will  of  God. 
Life  is  here  spreading  into  endless  varieties, 
climbing  into  new  and  higher  forms.  Man  is 
here  with  his  dual  nature,  his  sense  and  reason, 
his  flesh  and  spirit,  his  kinship  with  the  animal 
and  his  affinity  with  God. 

The  second  great  epoch  in  its  highest  form 
has  begun.  The  conscience  of  God  seeks  expres- 
sion in  the  existence  of  this  dual  creature  man. 
There  is  the  birth  of  the  ideal  in  the  human 
soul.  Over  the  personal  life,  over  the  life  of  the 
family,  over  lovers'  communion  and  marriage 
altar,  over  the  cradle  and  the  school  and  the 
house  of  prayer,  the  ideals  gather ;  over  the  socie- 
ties of  trade  and  the  nation  they  assemble,  with 
a  bright,  particular  star  for  every  relation,  for 
every  interest,  for  every  vocation,  with  a  galaxy 
of  stars  for  the  total  social  existence  of  man,  an 
inward  firmament  ample  as  the  outward,  crowded 
as  that  is  with  unsetting  worlds  that  burn  for- 
ever in  the  heights  of  man's  being,  and  that 
form  the  heights,  overawe  and  fascinate,  amaze 
and  hallow,  command  and  bless,  the  weary  race 
of  mortal  men. 

With  the  birth  of  the  ideal  there  comes  the 
beginning  of  moral  struggle.  That  heavenly 
vision  will  not  allow  man  to  rest.  The  ideal  is 
with  man,  and  he  can  no  more  outrun  it  than  he 


384  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

can  outrun  his  own  shadow.  It  is  the  image,  the 
shadow,  the  spirit  and  presence  of  God  in  the 
heart  of  our  existence. 

"  Whither  shall  I  go  from  thy  spirit  ? 

Or  whither  shall  I  flee  from  thy  presence  ? 

If  I  ascend  up  into  heaven,  thou  art  there: 

If  I  make  my  bed  in  Sheol,  behold,  thou  art  there. 

If  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning, 

And  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea  ; 

Even  there  shall  thy  hand  lead  me, 

And  thy  right  hand  shall  hold  me. 

If  I  say,  Surely  the  darkness  shall  overwhelm  me, 

And  the  light  about  me  shall  be  night ; 

Even  the  darkness  hideth  not  from  thee, 

But  the  night  shineth  as  the  day : 

The  darkness  and  the  light  are  both  alike  to  thee." 

Omnipresent  is  the  ideal.  Its  light  is  every- 
where. By  it  we  know  that  error  is  error,  that 
wrong  is  wrong,  that  sin  is  sin.  We  know  its 
presence  in  regret  and  grief,  in  remorse  and  de- 
spair, in  the  whole  descending  bitterness  of  the 
selfish  life,  in  all  the  circles  of  the  moral  inferno, 
in  the  utmost  depth  of  malice  and  shame.  By 
the  ever-present  ideal  we  know  that  we  are  men, 
and  that  we  have  outraged  our  humanity.  By  it 
we  know  the  sweetness  of  repentance,  the  con- 
solation of  the  new  purpose,  the  high  and  solemn 
joy  of  moral  manhood  victorious  in  temptation, 
strong  in  service,  undismayed  in  adversity,  fear- 
less in  death,  at  peace  with  the  universe,  upheld 
by  vast  hopes  in  the  heart  of  mystery.    The  ideal 


GOD  ALL  IN  ALL  385 

is  the  glorious  presence  of  God  in  the  human 
mind.  The  struggle  and  the  suffering  of  man  in 
the  presence  of  the  ideal  are  the  struggle  and  the 
sufferiug;  of  man  in  the  life  of  God. 

What  a  great  epoch  this  is !  We  think  first 
of  all  of  this  awakening  of  a  race  of  animals 
by  flashing  in  upon  the  members  of  it  an  image 
of  higher  good,  of  better  things,  of  mightier 
ranges  of  being,  of  the  moral  life  of  God.  This 
is  the  first  movement  in  the  vast  process.  A  race 
of  animals  is  arrested ;  something  has  touched 
it  from  above ;  something  from  behind  the  skies 
has  passed  into  its  heart.  It  was  a  race  of  ani- 
mals ;  it  is  now  a  race  of  men.  It  is  a  race 
awakened  to  the  sovereignty  of  the  moral  order. 
It  is  a  race  with  a  conscience  summoned  to  the 
vision  and  the  service  of  God.  It  is  as  if  we 
heard  in  the  thick  darkness  of  animalism  the 
words  ring  out,  "  Let  there  be  light :  and  there 
was  lio^ht."  The  conscience  of  God  has  now  a 
sphere  of  expression  and  operation  beyond  him- 
self. He  is  the  Creator  of  a  morally  awakened 
race,  He  is  the  God  and  Father  of  men. 

The  next  thing  that  strikes  one  is  the  waste 
in  this  epoch.  So  many  lives  there  are  that  look 
up  once  or  twice,  and  then  forever  afterwards 
look  down.  So  many  souls  there  are  that  never 
come  to  anything,  that  waste  their  power  in  sin 
and  shame,  that  follow  paths  of  evil  and  disgrace 


388  THROUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

into  despair,  that  go  at  last  to  swell  the  awful 
volume  of  human  failure.  What  a  dead  sea  is 
this !  What  a  depth  of  waste  and  shame,  what  a 
charnel-house  set  in  the  light  of  the  ideal !  There 
in  the  light  of  the  eternal  ideal  are  exposed  for 
recognition  the  sweet  children  that  ended  exist- 
ence in  crime,  the  fair  youth  that  became  the 
plague  of  society,  the  men  and  women  who  in 
their  headlong  career  of  vice  abandoned  all  honor, 
the  men  and  women  of  genius  who  lent  imagi- 
nation to  transfigure  lust  and  glorify  the  beast, 
and  the  countless  company  who  simply  became 
sordid  and  mean,  and  who  sank  at  last,  helpless, 
worthless,  hopeless,  into  the  dark  embrace  of 
death.  What  a  multitude  that  is,  lying  in  the 
morgue  of  history  awaiting  recognition ;  and  there 
is  none  to  recognize  or  pity  or  put  them  out  of 
sight  but  God. 

Then  comes  the  tragedy  in  the  life  of  the 
good.  They  mean  well,  they  make  mistakes,  and 
they  suffer  from  mistakes.  They  did  not  know 
the  time  of  their  visitation,  and  they  have  thus 
brought  upon  themselves  enduring  distress.  They 
aim  high,  and  the  arrow  falls  far  short  of  the 
mark.  They  aim  again  and  again,  and  they  do 
not  attain.  The  pursuit  of  the  moral  goal  breeds 
a  kind  of  despair.  Who  is  sufficient  for  these 
things?  We  fight  with  beasts  as  Paul  did  at 
Ephesus,  and  we  carry  through  life  the  marks  of 


GOB  ALL  IN  ALL  387 

their  teeth  upon  our  nature.  Everywhere  our 
ignorance  and  weakness  conspire  to  limit  our 
attainment,  sometimes  to  defeat  our  endeavor. 
We  rise  fresh  every  morning,  salute  with  devout 
hearts  the  shining  hours  full  of  good,  full  of 
God,  and  we  retire  every  evening  weary  with 
the  consciousness  that  mistake  has  again  kept 
us  from  complete  and  glorious  victory.  Paul  be- 
gins his  Christian  life  with  the  challenge,  "  Am 
I  not  an  apostle  ?  "  He  ends  it  with  the  confes- 
sion, "  I  am  the  chief  of  sinners  ;  "  and  he  adds 
the  great  tragic  note,  "  I  did  it  ignorantly  in 
unbelief."  Oh,  the  tragic  mistake  of  the  good 
soul !  Oh,  the  intellect,  unequal  servant  of  the 
good  will !  Oh,  the  poor  device  that  defeats  or 
limits  the  victory  of  the  good  intent !  This  is 
the  pure  tragedy  of  the  world,  —  this  ignorance 
and  weakness  by  which  our  best  purposes  and 
endeavors  are  beaten  back  in  defeat.  The  tra- 
gedy of  the  world  is  not  given  in  the  sin  of  Judas. 
That  is  pure  crime.  That  is  unmitigated  waste 
and  shame.  The  tragedy  of  the  world  is  given 
in  Peter's  denial.  Weakness  overwhelmed  him. 
There  was  no  vision  left,  no  strength  to  support 
the  generous  resolve,  "  I  will  go  with  thee  to 
prison  and  to  death."  The  man  went  down  with 
love  alive  in  his  heart,  with  a  noble  purpose 
keeping  its  hold  upon  his  will ;  he  went  down 
through  ignorance,  through  weakness,  through 


388  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

the  surprise  that  overwhehned  the  mind  unequal 
to  the  service  of  the  noble  intent.  This  is  the 
tragedy  of  our  time.  The  good  man  in  temp- 
tation, in  a  difficult  duty,  in  a  great  crisis  of 
existence,  falling  from  his  goodness  through  mis- 
take. He  is  the  soldier  on  picket  duty,  who 
never  means  to  be  unfaithful,  whose  soul  shrinks 
with  horror  at  unfaithfulness,  and  who  yet  in  an 
hour  of  weakness  falls  asleep  at  his  post.  When 
ie  is  called,  court-martialed,  sentenced,  and  led 
forth  to  be  shot,  do  not  his  comrades  see  the 
tragedy  in  his  life  ?  Do  they  not  see  how  differ- 
ent his  case  is  from  that  of  the  wretch  who  never 
meant  to  be  true,  who  is  shot  because  he  is  a 
wretch  ?  Do  they  not  feel  the  pity  of  it  when 
they  see  him  fall,  pierced  by  a  hundred  bullets  ? 
That  is  part  of  the  vision  of  this  world,  —  the 
suffering,  sometimes  the  fatal  suffering,  that 
comes  from  the  ignorance  and  the  weakness  of 
the  brave. 

We  stand  at  a  distance  and  survey  this  mighty 
epoch  of  human  history.  If  we  stand  too  near, 
we  shall  be  dismayed  by  the  horror  of  the  battle- 
field, its  slaughter  and  its  agony.  If  we  stand 
where  we  can  see  it  all,  we  shaU  feel  that  the 
God  of  battles  is  in  it,  and  that  the  forces  of  his 
spirit  are  supreme.  He  has  made  man.  He  has 
made  man  aware  of  his  manhood.  He  has  made 
man  know  himself  in  the  descent  of  shame,  in 


GOD  ALL  IN  ALL  389 

the  inferno  o£  the  wicked  life.  He  has  made 
man  know  himself  in  the  struggle  upward,  in  the 
sense  of  limitation  and  defeat.  He  has  made 
the  race  of  man,  and  through  the  fiery  courses 
of  woe,  through  the  heart  of  the  world's  deepest 
tragedy,  He  is  greatening  within  man  the  sense 
of  his  humanity.  As  we  survey  this  tremendous 
epoch,  we  cry  out  for  our  own  comfort,  and  for 
the  comfort  of  mankind  :  — 

"  O  love  that  will  not  let  me  go."  We  look 
upon  a  scene,  —  confused,  wild,  tragic,  tremen- 
dous, but  beating  high  with  life,  pulsing  with 
the  presence  of  God.  Our  sinfid,  erring,  suffer- 
ing race  is  here,  and  God  is  with  us,  God  is  in 
us.  We  shall  not  be  moved  ;  God  shall  help  us, 
and  that  right  early.  We  are  here  in  this  wide 
and  terrible  desert  wherein  are  nameless  dis- 
tresses, and  we  are  the  flock  of  God,  and  He  is 
our  shepherd.  Yea,  though  we  walk  through 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  we  shall  fear 
no  evil ;  for  He  is  with  us.  He  is  within  us. 

3.  There  is  the  final  epoch  in  the  life  of  God. 
In  the  first  epoch  God  was  the  universe ;  in 
the  second  the  universe  reaching  its  climax  in 
man  was  other  than  God,  while  living  upon  his 
strength  ;  in  the  final  epoch  the  universe  is  taken 
back  into  the  Eternal  life,  and  God  becomes  all 
in  all. 

Here  is  the  hope  for  the  wasted  existence  on 


390  THROUGH  MAN   TO   GOD 

the  earth.  Human  history  is  less  than  an  hour  in 
the  great  and  terrible  day  of  the  Lord.  Human 
life  with  its  threescore  years  and  ten  is  less  than 
a  moment  in  the  vast  redemptive  process  of  our 
God.  The  souls  that  have  turned  life  here  into 
shame  are  on  the  fiery  courses  of  woe.  None 
may  say  how  long  or  how  terrible  their  punish- 
ment may  be.  They  were  made  for  the  vision 
and  service  of  God ;  they  have  unmade  them- 
selves. On  the  potter's  wheel  they  have  gone 
to  pieces ;  they  are  thrown  to  the  rubbish-heap. 
But  the  clay  is  good,  the  wheel  whirls  forever, 
and  the  potter  loves  his  task.  The  broken  ves- 
sel will  soften  into  the  new  lump,  the  old  clay 
will  be  put  upon  the  wheel  again,  the  old  eter- 
nal design  will  forever  seek  the  perfect  embodi- 
ment of  its  high  beauty.  Such  must  be  our 
hope.  Souls  made  in  the  image  of  God  may  not 
die ;  souls  that  have  outraged  their  being  may 
not  enter  the  kingdom  of  God.  Souls  that  are 
outside  that  kingdom  are  in  the  realm  where 
God  recovers  the  waste  of  our  world,  where  He 
remakes  the  broken,  worthless  human  life. 

"  I  stood  at  Naples  once,  a  night  so  dark 
I  could  have  scarce  conjectured  there  was  earth 
Anywhere,  sky  or  sea  or  world  at  all : 
But  the  night's  black  was  burst  through  by  a  blaze  — 
Thunder  struck  blow  on  blow,  earth  groaned  and  bore, 
Through  her  whole  length  of  mountain  visible  : 
There  lay  the  city  thick  and  plain  with  spires, 


GOD  ALL  IN  ALL  391 

And,  like  a  ghost  disshrouded,  white  the  sea. 
So  may  the  truth  be  flashed  out  by  one  blow, 
And  Guido  see,  one  instant,  and  be  saved. 
Else  I  avert  my  face,  nor  follow  him 
Into  that  sad  obscure  sequestered  state 
Where  God  unmakes  but  to  remake  the  soul 
He  else  made  first  in  vain;  which  must  not  be." 

If  this  is  not  too  good  to  be  true,  if  life  that 
here  has  been  an  expense  of  being  in  a  waste  of 
shame  may  not  forever  lie  as  a  mere  rubbish- 
heap  in  God's  universe,  we  may  weU  believe  that 
all  the  sorrowful  issues  of  mistake  and  weakness 
shall  at  last  be  healed,  that  God  shall  abolish 
the  tragedy  of  our  existence  by  abolishing  its 
cause.  And  He  shall  conserve  the  great  human 
issues  of  this  tragic  world.  All  the  pity  for  suf- 
fering souls,  aU  the  horror  of  the  black  issues 
of  mistake,  all  the  sympathy  and  tenderness,  all 
the  pure  aspiration  and  high  prayer,  shall  be 
kept  forever.  The  wealth  of  soul  that  has  been 
gained  in  this  process  of  blood  and  tears  shall 
not  be  lost.  The  tragedy  shall  end  because  igno- 
rance and  weakness  shall  be  done  away,  and 
the  great  heart  of  the  brave  who  fought  and 
suffered  defeat,  who  were  caught  in  meshes  of 
error  that  they  could  not  rend  asunder,  shall 
beat  with  a  heavenly  joy.  And  the  joy  shall  be 
a  song  in  which  the  major  notes  of  final  victory 
and  peace  shall  be  set  in  the  vast  minor  of  re- 
membered mistake  and  sorrow.    Oh,  that  song 


392  THROUGH  MAN  TO  GOB 

of  Moses  and  the  Lamb !  the  triumphant  peal  of 
a  redeemed  humanity,  singing  in  the  memory 
of  this  scene  of  tragedy,  singing  with  a  voice 
like  the  voice  of  many  waters,  as  if  all  the  tears 
and  all  the  sorrows  of  aU  time  were  pouring 
their  pathos  into  it.  The  process  of  tragedy  is 
in  God ;  its  issues  are  with  Him. 

Here,  too,  we  may  see  how  clear  the  hope  of 
the  deathless  life  burns.  God  shall  recall  the 
universe  into  his  own  life  ;  worlds  shall  dissolve 
into  their  elements,  mere  physical  individuality 
shall  pass  away.  All  life  that  is  without  the 
capacity  of  rational  being  must  run  its  brief 
course,  but  souls  made  in  the  image  of  the  moral 
Deity,  made  for  his  heart,  created  children  of 
God,  shall  last  forever.  They  shall  be  recalled, 
like  a  constellation  of  wandering  stars,  into  the 
deep  bosom  of  the  Eternal  Being.  They  shall  be 
recalled  into  the  centres  of  the  light  ineffable. 
The  dead  are  with  God,  as  stars  unseen  at  noon 
are  in  the  heavens ;  the  dead  are  with  God, 
recalled  to  the  life  in  Him,  moving  on  higher 
courses,  but  covered  by  the  light  that  is  inacces- 
sible. The  dead  are  in  God,  concealed  in  light, 
serving  in  the  centres  of  a  glory  into  which  mor- 
tal vision  may  not  penetrate.  The  dead  shall  be 
with  God,  the  small  and  the  great,  recalled 
to  his  heart,  placed  there  as  the  permanent  em- 
bodiments of  his  creative  love,  kept  in  being 


GOD  ALL  IN  ALL  39S 

that  they  may  behold,  serve,  and  enjoy  Him  for- 
ever. 

Is  there  no  comfort  in  this  vision  ?  If  it  is 
true  that  God  shall  again  be  the  imiverse,  it  is 
true  that  aU  in  God  must  accord  with  his  soul. 
All  sin,  all  sorrow,  all  weakness,  shaU  pass  away. 
The  terrible  discords  of  existence  shall  be  shed 
forever.  The  vision  is  of  the  Holy  City.  And 
they  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any 
more,  neither  shall  the  sun  strike  upon  them, 
nor  any  heat,  for  the  Lamb  that  is  in  the  midst 
of  the  throne  shall  be  their  Shepherd,  and  shall 
guide  them  unto  foimtains  of  waters  of  life,  and 
God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes. 
Oh,  that  stainless,  tearless  universe !  Oh,  that 
universe  in  God!  Oh,  the  tenderness  and  the 
strength  in  our  God !  Like  the  dear  mother  long 
since  vanished  from  us,  He  shall  take  us  soul  by 
soul  in  our  mistakes  and  fears  and  heartbreaks, 
and  with  his  own  hand  wipe  away  our  tears. 
Like  the  father  who  put  his  strength  round  us, 
He  shall  compass  our  being  with  his  Almighty 
love.  Oh,  the  vision  of  the  redeemed  and  sorrow- 
less  race  of  mortal  men,  what  sweetness,  what 
solace  it  brings ! 

Is  there  here  no  inspiration  for  the  soul  that 
would  be  just  and  pure?  Whence  come  our 
paralysis  and  despair?  From  doubt  concerning 
the  victory  of  good  over  evil.   When  we  lose  our 


394  THEOUGH  MAN   TO  GOD 

faith  in  our  own  possible  nobleness,  when  we 
surrender  our  belief  in  the  possible  nobleness  of 
our  fellow  men,  when  we  have  no  longer  high 
confidence  in  the  power  of  truth  over  human 
hearts  at  home  and  abroad,  then  we  abandon 
endeavor.  When  hope  dies,  endeavor  ends.  Doubt 
of  the  victory  of  good  over  evil  is  the  thing,  and 
the  only  thing,  that  cuts  the  nerve  of  moral 
service.  This  is  our  supreme  calamity.  Moral 
discouragement  is  the  source  of  all  but  a  small 
fraction  of  the  sins  of  men,  moral  discourage- 
ment is  the  origin  of  the  greater  part  of  the  in- 
difference of  good  people  to  the  claims  of  the 
kingdom  of  God.  Take  all  hope  of  goodness  out 
of  the  heart  of  man,  and  to-morrow  you  will  find 
him  herding  with  the  beast  of  the  field.  The 
vision  of  God  triumphant, —  not  that,  but  the 
horror  of  the  devil  triumphant,  is  the  great  de- 
stroyer of  moral  endeavor.  The  vision  of  eter- 
nal sin,  defiant  forever,  is  the  supreme  dismay. 
For,  as  Maurice  said,  we  need  then  a  new  Te 
Deum,  a  chant  in  infinite  gloom,  —  "  We  praise 
thee,  O  Devil,  we  acknowledge  thee  to  be  the 
Lord." 

As  our  hope  is  in  God,  so  our  inspiration  is 
from  Him.  He  is  on  the  side  of  every  soul  that 
seeks  the  righteous  life.  And  when  we  join  Him 
in  service  for  the  coming  of  his  kingdom,  we 
trust  to  his  power  to  win  our  cause  and  to  reward 


GOD  ALL  IN  ALL  395 

our  labor.  When  we  are  confident  that  we  shall 
not  fail,  how  earnest  we  become  in  our  personal 
devotion,  how  large  and  free  we  become  in  our 
public  service,  how  generous  and  how  joyous 
as  sustainers  of  the  great  causes  of  mankind ! 
When  we  rise  to  the  vision  of  the  truth  that 
no  falsehood  can  defeat,  of  the  right  that  no 
wrong  can  crush,  of  the  goodness  that  no  evil 
can  overpower,  we  rise  to  our  best  estate  as  mem- 
bers of  the  Church  of  Christ.  Serious  but  not 
hopeless,  difficult  but  not  uncontrollable,  tre- 
mendous but  subject  in  the  long  eternal  years  to 
God,  is  the  moral  being  of  this  race  of  ours. 
And  we  bless  God  that  the  universe  has  never 
escaped  from  his  control.  We  bless  God  for  the 
vision  of  the  angel  standing  in  the  sun,  the  spirit- 
ual splendor  in  the  heart  of  splendor,  the  re- 
deemed humanity  become  all  light,  all  fire,  and 
set  forever  in  the  infinite  glory  of  God.  We 
bless  God  for  the  hope  of  a  universe  recalled  to 
himself,  for  the  dream  that  hears  again  the  song 
of  the  morning  stars,  the  shout  of  the  sons  of 
God,  for  the  fitful,  but  solemn,  expectation  that 
again  in  all  worlds,  in  all  souls,  in  sovereign 
power  and  grace  God  shall  be  all  in  all. 


Date  Due 

FACULTY 

1 

*f A'l,  U  Li" 

r 

1 

* 

p---*'*^ 

JAN  3  0  73 

Y 

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nN 


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